Perfection
by jai guru deva
Summary: They don't love. He took her for all she had. It thrilled her at first, but it didn't last. Something is always amiss where Tom Riddle is concerned. TROC
1. PROLOGUE

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: My creative writing teacher from a few years ago told me that the worst thing you can do is to preface something you wrote. I feel compelled, however, to tell you that this is nowhere near finished and that it may seem kind of confusing now, but it will get better, I promise… Please review.

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_**PERFECTION**_

**Prologue**

Tom Riddle decided, after much deliberation, that Rosaline Bordenave was indeed different from all the other dithery girls who followed him around.

For starters, _she _didn't follow him around at all. She made the chase just as exciting as he was sure the kill was going to be. She was also unparalleled in the way of beauty. Tom mulled these thoughts over in his head as he approached the door to the Slytherin common room during his free period. He happened to know that Rosaline had a free period at the same time as he did, and he wagered that she would be in the common room right then.

He was prepared to say what he had to say to her, feeling quite confident as he strolled smoothly through the door. He was not prepared, however for what he saw as he entered the room. Rosaline was there, indeed, but she was not alone. She was sitting on the lap, _the lap_, of Ben Covington, the Slytherin Quidditch chaser. It seemed as if Covington and Rosaline were glued together at the lips.

Feeling a new, looming presence in the room, Rosaline broke away from Covington and turned around to find Tom Riddle glaring at her, obviously fuming. His eyes were so lit with fury that they had almost a red tinge to them. Rosaline's eyes widened at the sight of him. If she had known he was coming, she would never have bestowed herself upon someone like Covington. But what right did Tom have to just come storming in, expecting her to automatically be available to him? She was not that type of girl, and she held herself to a much higher standard than to becoming the lapdog of some boy who only paid her any mind when it was convenient for him. Her shocked and somewhat regretful expression slowly faded and she turned away from Tom, back to Covington. A few moments later, the common room door was slammed so forcefully that the floor seemed to reverberate from the crash.

Tom walked as far away from the common room as quickly as possible. He stormed around the school, looking for anyone or anything to cause pain. He found some sort of solace by exercising his prefect privileges in the taking of unreasonable amounts of points from students of other houses. He also took his aggression out upon a pair of unfortunate second-years, whom he hexed mightily for getting in the way of his angry storming.

Tom remained agitated for the rest of his free period. After that, he had lunch. By then, he had calmed down some and decided that eating something would be a good idea. He walked into the crowded Great Hall and sat down in between Antonin Dolohov and Brice Avery. They could sense that he was not in a mood to speak with them, so they thought it best to remain silent and out of harm's way. Tom then looked up the table to see none other than Rosaline and that idiot Covington sitting next to each other. They were mid-kiss when he looked, with Rosaline's back to him. The rage started to swell within him, but was better adjusted then and remained composed, externally at least.

Internally, however, Tom was absolutely indignant. What gall did she have to treat him as she did? Fawning all over some random boy when the most powerful, brilliant student the school had ever seen had shown interest in her. And she was making a bloody fool of herself along the way. Tom, who had well mastered the art of manipulation, knew, of course, that she wasn't _really_ fawning over that ridiculous Covington boy. He saw it in the way she would plant a kiss on Covington's lips, then glance back over her shoulder in the slightest way to make sure that Tom was watching. And he always was, whether she knew it or not. He had also seen it in her expression when he saw her in the common room an hour before. He knew she was trying to make him jealous. Many a girl had tried before her, but to no avail. What irked Tom about Rosaline to his very core, however, was the fact that it was working. That had to be fixed. Tom couldn't very well go about his plans with a girl, not just a girl, _the _girl, the girl every boy in the school had salivated over at one point or another, that girl driving him insane every time he looked her way and she glanced at him, then turned her perfect face away to talk to Covington. No, that would not do. The more Tom thought about it, the more he enjoyed the idea of having Rosaline to call his own. She would be his most coveted possession. He decided then, as he glanced down the table in her direction, that Rosaline Bordenave would be his by the end of the school-year, sooner if he could manage it.

He stood abruptly to leave the Hall, and glanced once again at Rosaline while he gathered his books into his bag. A knowing smirk played upon her full lips as she watched Tom leave, clearly paying no mind to whatever Covington was rambling on about.

Tom reciprocated with a stony face and blazing black eyes. _You wait, gorgeous, you just wait. Soon you'll learn why never to play games with Tom Riddle._

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. It had begun to rain in the late afternoon, and once it was dark, a violent thunderstorm rocked the castle. Night found both Tom and Rosaline in the Slytherin common room studying and chatting idly with their respective so-called friends, something that both of them incidentally despised. Rosaline, pretending to be engaged in conversation with Covington, would periodically steal glances across the room at Tom, who always seemed to be occupied at the moment. _What's the point of paying attention to this fool if Tom doesn't even notice me? _she thought. That was the way it always was with Tom. He only showed interest when it was convenient for him. When she could stand it no longer, she stood up, leaned over to kiss Covington goodnight, glancing one last time at Tom, who was speaking with one of his "followers," and huffed off to her dormitory.

What Rosaline didn't know was that Tom had been watching her every move. Tom also knew that she had a habit of waking in the middle of the night and taking walks in the corridors to calm herself. He fostered this same habit himself, and had seen her on occasion, though he had never allowed her to see himself. Later that night, he would wait in the common room for her to come down, then he would follow her on her stroll.

So at around three o' clock in the morning, in the common room sat Tom, not at all as tired as he should have been, excitement surging through his veins. His ears perked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the girl's dormitory staircase. He quickly stood from the couch he had been sitting on and darted over to a shadowy corner of the large room. After a few moments, Rosaline opened the staircase door and began to walk across the common room towards the door. Her long, gleaming, chestnut hair was slightly tousled and she was wearing a white silk dressing gown that billowed after her as she strode out the door and closed it quietly behind her. Tom waited a few minutes after she left and swiftly and silently followed her out and down the corridors. After several minutes of stalking his prey, Tom caught up with her in a hallway that he made absolutely sure was completely deserted.

"Rosaline!" he whispered from a shadowy spot in the corridor.

She whipped around, terrified, ready to reach for her wand if the need be. "Who's there?" she whispered back.

Tom slowly stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself in the fiery orange glow of the candles on the walls. He was pleased to see a slight relief in the tension on her face as he came into view.

"What are you doing here?' She inquired sharply.

"I have something to discuss with you," he replied calmly.

"Now that you have me cornered in a dark corridor in the middle of the night?" She raised an eyebrow, seeing an opportunity. "I don't think Covington would be very happy to hear about this."

"Honestly, Rosaline, you can't expect me to believe that show you put on," he spat.

"I don't know wha-" She was cut off by Tom's angry voice.

"Do you think I don't know what you're doing? You forget just whom you're dealing with, Rosaline." Tom sneered coldly, his deep, black eyes bearing down upon her icy blue ones.

She trembled inwardly, but she dared not show him that fear. She knew that his temper could flare, as it sometimes, but seldom, did. She'd had some experience with flaring tempers in the form of her father, and she certainly didn't want to draw it out in Tom, someone who was intimidating enough to most people when he was not enraged. Outwardly, she drew herself up as best she could, which was not much since Tom towered over her slight five foot six frame, and feigned innocence by peering up at him from under her long, dark eyelashes, meeting his brazen stare.

She took another moment to gather herself and form her lips into the sultry pout that she knew he wanted, then spoke in her tantalizing, breathy voice.

"I find it peculiar that you don't even know I'm alive when you have the opportunity to be alone with me, but the moment you see me show attention to someone else, you go mad, _Tom_."

She put distinct emphasis on the last word. She had carefully observed that he had always cringed and glared whenever someone addressed him as Tom, and she had stored that away in her mind. She had then unleashed that harbored information upon him, using it against him, even though she didn't know why it bothered him so. This resourcefulness was something that Tom admired in Rosaline; he liked to entertain the notion that she had learned her tactics from him, some of them at least. Rosaline's charm, however, could not have been taught. She must have been born with it, or inherited it somehow.

Tom listened to her intently, his every sense heightened to its peak.

Rosaline soaked up the blaze from his eyes and continued to speak slowly and deliberately in the same smoky, seductive voice that she knew would always find its way under Tom's skin and stay there.

"Why is it that you're _obsessed_ with things you can't have?"

Her last comment sent Tom flying over the edge. "Are we not alone together now?" he growled angrily, stepping closer, closer to her, her face, but not her beauty, partially concealed by darkness. He pushed her swiftly and smoothly against the opposite wall and leaned in towards her. He planted one of his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders to ensure that she could not escape.

He wanted her more then than he had ever before; she could feel the heat of desire radiating from his skin. Their faces were mere inches apart. The only sound in the hallway for a moment was their ragged breathing and the rain pounding relentlessly against the windows and walls. Their eyes locked together in a gaze more intense than the thunderstorm raging outside the castle, all around them.

Tom suddenly snapped back into his former state of mind. If she could play games, so could he. He broke their gaze to look mockingly up and down the corridor before reclaiming her eyes with his. "I don't see anyone else. And I notice that you're very much alive right now," he whispered forcefully. He removed his left hand from the wall and slowly slid it down the right side of her body, letting it finally rest in the groove of her waist. "I must admit, Rosaline, that your very public display of affection for that insolent, foolish _boy_ has driven me to a certain degree of madness. One that I'm sure the wrong side of which you don't want to be on. But with this madness comes other things," he breathed threateningly. He could feel Rosaline's body begin to tremble, but her face remained stoic.

His desire loomed larger with every word he spoke. "I've allowed you to play your little games for as long as I can stand, but I'm afraid I've reached my limit," he said with hunger and lust burning through his eyes as he tightened the grip of his hand on her waist.

Rosaline barely noticed when he slowly untied the ribbon around her thin waist that held her dressing gown together, she was so intent upon his eyes. She knew his intensity, but she had never seen him like this before. His eyes bore into hers, welcome or not, with the strength of a psychological battering ram. All efforts on her part to resist were accepted as futile. She allowed the very slightest sensation of vulnerability and fear to pass over her candlelit countenance, one that only someone studying her as closely as Tom would have noticed. And noticed he did. Her exposure of vulnerability to him was not completely expected, but it rendered him unable to control his maddening lust for her a second longer.

His mouth collided with hers in a way that she was sure would leave bruises on her lips. He slid his hands up her arms and roughly pushed the dressing gown down, exposing her smooth neck and shoulders. His hands aggressively roamed her body, grasping through her thin night-gown, all while his lips stayed attached to hers. She snaked her arms around his neck as he pressed her body up against his, his large hands clutching her back much too tightly. He bit her bottom lip and inhaled her blood. She gasped quietly, but did not make any indication that she wanted to be freed. He moved his mouth from her lips to her jaw-line, then slowly down the sensitive skin of her neck. It tasted salty and sweet. He nipped at the crook where her neck ended and her shoulder began, earning another small gasp from her, then moved to leave a trail of rough kisses along her accented collarbone. He then made his way back up to her lips, claiming them again with another searing kiss. When they broke apart to breathe, Tom resumed his deep glare and locked his eyes on hers, their noses almost touching.

"There is _nothing_ that I _can't have_," he growled viciously.

For a moment, Rosaline was rendered speechless by his vulgar display of power. Then, it was she who said, "Come here," and pulled Tom's head down to hers, feeling his raven hair between her fingers, and kissed his lips one more time, not as roughly as he had her, but just as passionately.

Suddenly, she pulled away. "See you in the morning," she breathed, eyeing him seductively. "It's late, you know." She placed her hands on his, which were still gripping her waist, gently removed them and let them fall away from her. She turned to leave, but Tom, unwilling to let her have the last word, lashed out, swiftly grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her back to him, again engulfing her in yet another blood-boiling kiss. After what seemed like much longer than a few seconds, they finally pulled apart. Tom wicked away a drop of blood from her pillowy, swollen bottom lip with his thumb.

"You should let me walk you back to the dormitories," he said in a low, sarcastic tone. "You don't know what kinds of people roam these corridors after dark."

Rosaline stared at his unbelievably handsome face and smirked in her irresistible way. Wanting to be close to him again, she entwined her arm with his. Although she would never admit it to anyone, she could never stand being alone in the dark at night. And she knew that nothing could happen to her with Tom near, so she leaned a little closer to him and continued the walk back to the Slytherin dormitories.


	2. ONE

**One**

Tom Riddle first saw Rosaline Bordenave in his third year at Hogwarts, Rosaline's second. He had seen her before this, of course, both of them having been sorted into the House of Slytherin, but he had never really _seen _her.

Even as a little girl, as she was then, something about her stayed with Tom. He could never quite rid himself of it. Something about her drew him to her. It was not love, never love. She would indeed become closer to Tom than any other person he knew, but this was not love. Perhaps that was why he had been so drawn to her in the first place; he sensed something amiss within her, sensed that she was no more capable of that emotion than he.

Regardless of why, Tom first saw Rosaline in the school library when he was thirteen years old. It was a little ways into the beginning of his third year. He had already established himself within the school as a force with which to be reckoned, establishing a small group of loyal followers who were willing to do his bidding and let him be their leader. Tom was also quickly becoming the favorite student of almost every teacher. He became known as being brilliant, quick-witted, and ever-so charming, even at such a young age.

A twelve-year-old Rosaline had been sitting at a table with one or two friends when Tom first saw her. They were all reading or studying quietly, not really speaking to each other, minding their own business. Tom had entered the library with only Brice Avery, his usual group absent for one reason or another. Rosaline had looked up from her book, glanced nonchalantly at Tom, and smiled at Avery. Avery walked over to where she was sitting and Tom followed.

"Rosaline, how are you?" asked Avery politely.

Rosaline looked up at him with enormous sky-blue eyes. She was very small and slight, even for her age, and her long, sleek chestnut hair seemed to engulf her.

"I'm fine," she said slowly, looking away from Avery to survey Tom. She had seen him in the common room. She knew he was extremely smart and all the teachers adored him. She also knew that he, like her, could talk his way out of any situation. Never having seen him up close before, she realized that he had an extremely attractive face, sharp, almost-black eyes, and an unusually cold demeanor. He intrigued her. She let her eyes linger on his face a moment longer, then turned back to Avery. "How've you been, Brice?"

"I've been good, mostly. How are your parents?" he said, the last words leaving him rather tentatively, as if he regretted having asked as soon as they left his mouth.

Rosaline's eyes flashed angrily for a split second, and Tom took note. "They're as well as they _can_ be," she replied, slightly grudgingly, as if she didn't want to speak on the subject anymore. Tom instantly wondered why.

By this time, Rosaline's friends had noticed Tom and Avery and had begun to whisper and giggle amongst themselves. Upon hearing them, Rosaline turned sharply around and glared. When this did not stop them, she turned back, rolling her eyes. Then, as if something in the back of her mind had sprung forward with an idea, she smirked deviously and looked at Tom.

"Tom, is it? My _friend_ here, Katrina," she said, gesturing to a girl with blonde hair sitting beside her, "has felt the need to call herself to your attention. You see, she thinks you're _very _handsome, but she doesn't know if you like _her_ or not. So, to spare us all the annoyance of having her snigger and whisper behind your back, we should clear the matter up right now."

She turned back to Katrina, glancing indifferently at the horrified look on her friend's face, then turned back to Tom and continued.

"So, what is it, Tom? Do you like her or not?"

Tom was caught slightly off guard by this, but nonetheless found it extremely amusing and decided to play along. "Well…considering the fact that Katrina had never said even a word to me, and only bases her opinion of me on looks, which is not very admirable, I would have to say that…" he glanced over at Katrina for a moment, then turned back to Rosaline, "no, I don't like her very much," he said, looking into Rosaline's eyes.

"Very well then," Rosaline said, glancing back at her mortified friend. "Thank you, Tom. See, Katrina? Now you can stop whispering and giggling and wasting everyone's time every time you see him because he doesn't like you," she said quickly and venomously. She then turned back to Avery, who was trying very hard not to burst out laughing for fear of being kicked out by the librarian, and Tom with a very satisfied look on her very pretty, petite face. "Well, I should probably get back to reading this, don't want to have to do it later…" she said.

"Alright then, see you later, Rosaline," Avery said, still grinning from Rosaline's act.

"Goodbye, Brice," she again glanced over to Tom. "Tom."

Tom nodded his goodbye and the two boys walked over to another table and sat down with their books. As soon as they were out of earshot, Tom turned to Avery and asked sharply, "How do you know her?"

"Rosaline?" he responded, gazing back over to her table. "Oh, our families have been friendly since, well, before we were born, I guess. I've known her for a long time,"

Tom followed Avery's gaze and landed on Rosaline. She was again sitting quietly, reading her book, as her friend Katrina sat devastated and still mortified, looking down at her lap. The other girls at the table dared not speak a word while Rosaline was reading, obviously not wanting to disturb her again. He had never met anyone, save himself, who was as adept at controlling their surroundings as she. He decided then that Rosaline Bordenave was someone he respected, and also someone on whom he should keep an eye.

---

The events which occurred in Tom's life from then until his sixth year prevented him from seeing much of Rosaline.

During this time, he had discovered the reality of his family and ancient, powerful lineage, and also, unfortunately, the reality of his filthy Muggle father. All of that new information had kept him quite busy, making him unable to devote his attention to something as trivial as a girl.

He had spent his fair share of time with girls, however, but usually tired of them after a short amount of time, none of them important enough to care about, just used as ways to amuse himself. He often found himself in a dark corner of the common room with any given girl after dark, and at these times, he would also find himself imagining what it would be like if the given girl had enormous, icy-blue eyes and long, sleek chestnut hair.

It was not until his sixth year that this fantasy would be manifested. He considered the summer leading into that year one of the most important times of his life. He had, by then, discovered the origin of his lineage to be Salazar Slytherin _himself_, and had made it his mission to find his relatives. When he did, he was devastatingly disappointed with their lifestyle, having expected something more grandiose. He was disgusted with the only relative he could find, a filthy-looking man by the name of Morfin whom Tom deduced to be his own uncle.

As disgraced as he was, he had still seen to it that his father and his father's family got exactly what they had deserved. He left their cold bodies on the floor in their house in the village that balmy summer day, after stunning and modifying the memory of Morfin. He had stolen the large, slightly garish gold ring set with black stones, from Morfin's limp finger and placed it on his own. While leaving the hovel, Tom looked at the ring, letting it symbolize the power running through his veins, and decided to avenge Salazar Slytherin's lineage, to make it as foreboding as it had once been so long ago.

And so Tom's thirst for knowledge of his ancestry was finally quenched. It was not until his sixth year, her fifth, that Tom's obsession with power was joined by an obsession of another form; one with long, chestnut hair and light-blue eyes.

Tom saw Rosaline up close again when she was fifteen and he was sixteen. He had noticed from afar the obvious changes that had occurred in her appearance as she grew up, but he did not see her face-to-face again until the prefect's meeting on the Hogwarts Express. Rosaline had evidently been made prefect for her class. Tom had already been sitting in the compartment with the other prefects when Rosaline walked in and sat a few seats away from him.

He noticed the changes in her then more than ever before; she was no longer tiny, but an average height with somewhat petite bone structure. Her hair no longer engulfed her body, but fell gracefully about six inches past her shoulders. She carried herself in a flowing, dignified manner, making even the most subtle of gestures seem beautiful. She had long, dark eyelashes, full, soft-looking lips, rose-petal cheeks, and smooth, flawless, pale skin.

Rosaline noticed Tom looking at her and stared back. He had grown very tall, he must have been over six feet, but he was not at all gangly. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, emitting an aura of power, an arrogant look on his face. He had immaculate, wavy black hair that he kept fairly short and combed neatly to the side. What caught her attention the fastest, however, were his eyes. They were such a deep shade of brown, they could easily be mistaken for black. She looked into those eyes and he stared back into hers. They broke their gaze only when the head boy and girl called the meeting to order.

Over the next few months, Tom's obsession with Rosaline grew. They began to see each other more often, even have the odd conversation, but somehow Rosaline would always leave Tom wanting more. He found himself haunted by her in his dreams. It was not until that fateful day of envy and satisfaction that would end in a dark corridor in the middle of the night that Tom's fantasies would be manifested and Rosaline's life would be forever changed.

**AN:** I don't really like this chapter, I think it's kind of boring, but I had to write it or else you wouldn't know what's going on. The next one will be more exciting, just bear with me, I'll try to update as soon as I can! (BTW, the last sentence refers to the prologue, just in case you weren't smart enough to figure it out…just kidding!) PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. TWO

**AN: **I realized that this chapter was very similar to another story up on this site, so I changed some details in order to make it less similar. I didn't change anything too major; just some things I thought were a little tacky. The next chapter will be up as soon as I figure out what is going to happen next.

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**Two**

The fact that Rosaline and Tom were dating devastated many, but surprised few students at Hogwarts. Those who weren't head-over-heels for either saw it only fit for them to have each other. The fact that both were extremely jealous beings, however, created complications.

In January, Tom and Rosaline had been dating for about three months. Everything was going smoothly, and Tom continued to control his followers and order them around to help fulfill his plans. When he wasn't with Rosaline, he could usually be found in the library, in a dark corner by himself reading some decrepit book with an evil-sounding title, absorbing all the information he could.

Around this time, the school was abuzz with talks of the Winter Ball, held once every four years at Hogwarts for fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Tom was, of course, going with Rosaline.

As the ball neared, Rosaline had chosen a gown of black satin with a corseted bodice and a full skirt that swept the floor. She decided to wear her hair up in an elegant twist.

On the night of the ball, Rosaline finished getting ready and walked down the stairs to the common room with the other girls in her dormitory, ignoring their excited chatter. As soon as she entered the common room, she saw Tom, standing tall and more immaculate than usual, in a traditional suit. She made her way over to him, through the crowd of different colored dresses and black and white suits.

Upon seeing Rosaline, Tom swelled with pride that his date was more beautiful than any other girl there. When she reached him, he leaned down and kissed her, and told her she was perfect.

She smirked and they followed the crowd through the corridors and into the sparkling, lavishly decorated Great Hall.

---

Most of the dance passed uneventfully. Around 10:30, however, the night took a turn for the worse.

Rosaline had been dancing with Tom when the two decided to sit down for a drink. Rosaline found a table while Tom went to retrieve glasses of punch.

As soon as Rosaline had taken her seat at a table near the dance-floor, Brice Avery sat down beside her.

"Hello, Brice, how's your night going?" Rosaline asked uncharacteristically brightly, smiling her glowing smile at him.

Avery looked at her in a way she'd never seen him look at anyone before. She was somewhat surprised.

"Rosaline…" he said, faltering for a moment, looking away from her. Then, he seemed to regain his composure and continued. "Would you mind terribly if I had a word with you outside, in the corridor?"

Rosaline was shocked at his forwardness. She had known him, however, since they were very young and she wasn't threatened by him. "Yes, alright," she obliged.

She looked around the Hall quickly for any sight of Tom. Seeing none, she followed Avery into the corridor. She would only be a moment and Tom wouldn't return before then.

A pair of black eyes, however, followed Rosaline and Avery out the doors, and a tall, dark haired body followed them swiftly and silently into the corridor and peered through the window of the door of the empty classroom into which Avery had led Rosaline.

Once inside, Avery resumed staring at Rosaline in the unnerving way he had at the table.

"Brice, really, stop staring at-"

"Rosaline, I don't know how else to say this…I've been in love with you since we were ten," he said, less apprehensively than one would expect.

Rosaline was rendered speechless. She had once respected Avery, even considered him a friend, but as soon as he uttered the word "love," her view of him changed. As soon as anyone said that word, she knew nothing good could come of it. She was repulsed by him, even though she hadn't considered him to be bad-looking before. He had light brown hair, grey eyes, and stood a few inches taller than her. But now she wanted to leave, to get away from him, more than anything in the world.

"You don't love me," she said coldly, rooted to the spot.

"Yes, I do, more than you can imagine." He was coming closer to her.

"Brice, honestly, you're being ridiculous…"

"Please Rosaline, don't say anything else," he said. Then, he quickly leaned in close, too close to her face, and before she could pull away, his lips met hers and his hands were on her waist.

Tom had seen all of this, but heard nothing, through the window in the classroom door. Rage shook his body and he wanted to smash down the door and curse them both until they were unrecognizable. How could Rosaline embarrass him like she did? He restrained himself, however, and stormed back to the Great Hall to wait for them to return.

After a second, Rosaline placed her hands on Avery's chest and pushed with all her might, sending him stumbling backwards. He looked at her with frustration in his eyes.

"What do you think you're _doing_, Brice?" she said venomously. "Have you met _Tom_? You're supposed to be his _friend_!"

"Tom Riddle has no friends. We're only his disciples, his _servants_, even. He doesn't _deserve_ you," Avery said fervently, beginning to pace the classroom. In his mind, he knew he had done a very bad thing, and he sincerely hoped that Rosaline didn't tell Tom about it, no matter how strongly he felt about her.

"And what makes you think _you _do?" she shouted. "Especially now! I am going back to the ball, and you will come with me, and we will never speak of this again, and you will keep your distance from me from now on."

"Al-alright, then," Avery said, defeated and brokenhearted, as she turned her back to him and led the way out the door. He kept his eyes averted on the walk back to the Hall.

As soon as he saw Avery and Rosaline enter the Hall, Tom stood and strode towards Katrina, a girl he had been watching for a few minutes. He knew her as being in Rosaline's year, remembering her from the day he had first met Rosaline, when she had mortified Katrina in front of him in the library. _Perfect, _he thought. She'd be easy to use.

Katrina wasn't unattractive, but compared to Rosaline, she was nothing special. She had yellowish blonde hair and dull blue eyes. Her face lit up when she saw Tom approaching her. She straightened her posture in her chair and stuck her chest out. Tom noticed this and his stomach turned, but he looked back and saw Rosaline watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked Katrina politely upon reaching her.

"Of course!" she giggled. Tom secretly rolled his eyes. They walked out onto the dance-floor and he put his hand on her waist and she put her hand on his shoulder and their other hands joined and they began to move. After a few moments, Tom pulled her closer and whispered in her ear.

"Why don't we go back to the common room, away from all these people?" he asked smoothly.

"Yes…of course," she breathed, obviously trying to match Rosaline's trademark sultry voice, but failing foolishly. "But what about Rosaline?"

Tom's eyes flashed. "Who?" he said nonchalantly. Katrina giggled again as he led her out of the Great Hall. He looked back once more to see Rosaline sitting alone at a table, glaring at them. He smirked to himself and continued to lead Katrina through the corridor.

Rosaline watched them go, feeling shocked and indignant. If Tom were going to do this to her, why would he choose Katrina? She couldn't bear the thought of them together and after a few minutes, when she began to feel tears well in her eyes, she stood up and walked quickly out of the Great Hall and as far away from the Slytherin common room as possible.

---

Rosaline found herself alone, after storming about the castle for a while, leaning on the banister of the moonlit astronomy tower balcony, looking out over the dark grounds. Tears fell involuntarily from her eyes onto the railing as she thought about Tom leading Katrina undoubtedly into the empty common room, to his and Rosaline's favorite couch, where he had led Rosaline herself so many times.

More tears fell as Rosaline reminisced. These pleasant thoughts, however, were almost instantly replaced by the image of Tom's and Katrina's backs retreating further from her, through the grand doors of the Great Hall. And, of course, the moment would not have been complete if Tom had not glanced back at her, just once, before disappearing through the doors. She knew that glance well; she had used the same one to spite Tom months before when she was dating Covington.

But why would Tom feel such a need to cause _her_ pain? There was only one reason of which Rosaline could think, but it couldn't have been that. Tom couldn't possibly have seen Avery kiss her…could he? The blood drained from her face as she thought of this.

Suddenly, anger mended her broken heart. So what if he _had_ seen it? It was Avery who had kissed _her_, and she hadn't kissed back. In fact, she'd pushed him away seconds after it happened. Who was Tom to jump to such conclusions? Didn't he trust her? No, of course he didn't trust her, no one like him could possibly trust anyone, and she didn't trust him either. But she had only _kissed_ Avery. Considering Katrina's reputation around the school, she and Tom would be doing much more than kissing in the common room. She felt the tears welling again.

Rosaline wondered what Tom was doing at that moment. She had left the ball at least an hour before, certainly he and Katrina had _finished_ by then.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around and saw none other than Tom Riddle emerging from the shadows onto the moonlit balcony. At first she was shocked, almost frightened. Then, she decided that she would act as though she didn't think Tom had seen Avery kiss her.

She had no words to say to him; all she gave him was a deadly glare. She then turned her back to him and resumed her watch over the grounds.

"Well, I'm sure you're pleased with yourself," said Tom coolly, his voice coming closer behind her. She turned to face him again with her glare, realizing it was better than having her back to him and be unaware of whatever came her way. She remained silent, resenting his presence. She was too enraged to find words to retort.

She unconsciously rubbed her bare arms, which were covered in goosebumps from the bitter cold air.

"Here," Tom said, placing his jacket on her shoulders. She shook away from him, unwilling to let him help her put it on.

"Thank you," She said shortly.

"Better?" he asked coldly.

"Fine," she spat viciously, avoiding his eyes.

"So, why did you do it? Why _Avery_?" Tom asked, his agitation growing.

She couldn't deny it. She took a deep breath. "I'm _offended _that you really think I would kiss _Brice Avery_, of all people." Rosaline hissed. "He basically _attacked _me! I didn't _want_ to kiss him, believe me." She spun back around to look over the banister again.

Tom grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face him, and studied her face. He decided that what she was saying was genuine and let her go. She slowly turned back around.

His blood began to boil then at the thought of Avery cornering Rosaline, _his _Rosaline, so that she had no way out, and forcing himself upon her against her will.

"There has obviously been a misunderstanding," Tom said softly to Rosaline's back.

"Oh, no, Tom," Rosaline said, turning back around once more to face him. "There's no misunderstanding on _my_ part. You were so quick to accuse me that you left the ball with _Katrina_? Really, Tom, I think you could have done better."

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed. "We didn't do anything more than what you and Avery did," he said carefully. "Well, maybe a _bit _more, but it didn't last long. I think I was too rough with her, scared her, maybe. She couldn't handle it and she ran back out to the ball."

"Well, it sounds like you've had a lovely night," Rosaline said slowly and sharply. She was still quite irritated with Tom, after the way he'd acted. "I was enjoying myself before you got here, so if you'll excuse me…" She turned back around to look at the grounds once again.

"Really, how long is this going to last?" Tom asked, obviously frustrated.

"Until you stop being a foul git."

"Isn't name-calling a bit childish?" he inquired dryly.

"Isn't taking some random girl back to your common room while your girlfriend is sitting alone at the ball something a foul git would do?" she said rapidly. "It' not name-calling if the name is justified."

"How many times must I explain this before you understand me?" Tom asked exasperatedly. "I was extremely agitated by your lack of faithfulness to me and I felt the need to take it out on someone!" His eyes burned with anger.

"My _lack of faithfulness_? Avery kissed _me_, in case you weren't paying attention properly. And I _shoved _him away a _second _after it happened!" Rosaline shouted.

"_Keep your voice down_," Tom growled fiercely. "Do you _want_ a teacher to find us?"

They glared at each other for a moment before Tom's thoughts returned to Avery.

"_Avery_…" he growled, his eyes drifting from Rosaline's shadowy visage, the rage returning to his body. "When I see him, he will wish he'd never set foot in this school." He slammed his fist down on the banister, making a loud thud.

"Tom!" Rosaline gasped, jumping back to life at his sudden, violent movement. "It was only a kiss, I'm sure he didn't mean it-" she stopped herself when she realized what she was saying.

"Didn't mean it?" Tom hissed, beginning to lose control of his temper. "Are you _defending _him?"

"N-no, I was only saying…" Rosaline trailed off, shrinking beneath his burning eyes.

Tom's eyes flashed, and in his rage, he felt like hitting her, he even began to draw his fist up, but he took a deep breath and regained his composure. Now was not the time to frighten Rosaline. Now was the time to work towards manifesting his fantasies…He'd have to use the charm that he had honed and mastered so well over the years.

"Rosaline," he said softly. "I have no doubt that if there were any way we could take back the things we did, we would. But we can't, and you'll have find it within yourself to forgive me."

Rosaline rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't believe your sensitive act for a second," she spat. "I invented that."

She looked at his perfect face, however, and softened. "But perhaps if you're trying so hard that you have to use the sensitive act on me at all…" she trailed off as he leaned in to kiss her.

He broke away after a few moments. "That's better," he said. She nodded a response and he leaned in to kiss her again. She leaned against the wall as their kiss became more passionate. Tom's hands wandered over her body and hers over his. His lips were on her neck when he stopped for a moment, realizing that the time was right.

"Do you want to come out of the cold?" he whispered temptingly in her ear.

"_Now_, Tom?" she asked him incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Always," he smirked.

She sighed. She was usually able to find some way out of these situations, but she wasn't sure if anything would work with Tom. He was much more forceful and intimidating that anyone else she had been with. "No," she replied skeptically.

"Why not?" he asked, sounding irritated again.

She said nothing, just stared up at him with knowing, skeptical eyes.

"You know I would never hurt you," he whispered, his fingers dancing around her waist.

She made a sound with her throat. In truth, she didn't fully believe that. She was still a virgin and she had a feeling that if she went with him, things would quickly become out of her control, which she feared more than anything. She saw the lust in his eyes and she wasn't sure she would be able to stop him once he'd unleashed it in full. Still, a small part of her wanted to go with him so badly it caused her pain.

"Come with me, Rosaline," he said, his lips brushing against her ear.

"I don't think so," she said, attempting resolve, pulling away slightly. She felt Tom's hand slightly tightening on her waist.

"You don't trust me?" he asked her, his voice suddenly cold. She knew he wouldn't like the answer she had, so again she remained silent with her eyes still locked on his.

"Come with me," he said again. Rosaline sighed and rolled her eyes; she could see he wasn't going to give up. Finally, she sighed and gestured affirmatively, scowling. Tom smiled smugly and pulled her after him. She knew he would never let her "leave" once she was alone with him. That was the first lie he ever told her.

Tom led her silently down the darkened corridors into the dungeons to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. When he reached the entrance, he said the password and led her inside, through the common room, which was empty with everyone still out at the ball, and up the many stone steps that led to the dormitories. He stopped outside of his, opened the door, and watched her walk inside.

As soon as Rosaline had made her way into the room, Tom slammed the door shut and pulled her into a fiery kiss. Tom's lust came charging out in full force. He removed his lips from hers only to place them again on her neck. He slowly kissed her soft skin, occasionally biting gently. Rosaline let out a small cry despite herself.

Tom's left hand began exploring her body, while his right attacked the zipper of her dress. He slowly pulled it down as Rosaline stood up to allow him to pull off the dress, leaving her in her black undergarments. He admired how perfect she was as she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall loosely about her shoulders.

They removed the rest of their clothes, save their undergarments. Suddenly, Rosaline pulled away. "Tom," she breathed. He said nothing but looked at her with a terrifying, dangerous hunger gleaming in his eyes. She knew then that there would be no turning back.

Tom smirked and kissed her again more passionately than before, and continued feeling her body with his wandering hands. He kissed her neck again as he slid a hand down her abdomen and suddenly ripped her underwear completely off with a single jerk of his hand, causing Rosaline to gasp.

He moved back to her soft lips before removing his boxers and smiled smugly and leaned down on top of her.

She knew she didn't want him, but she was powerless to stop him. Rosaline closed her eyes and willed away tears as Tom kissed her neck and got ready to move inside her.

---

Once he caught his breath, Tom turned to examine his exhausted conquest, smiling haughtily. It was only right he had someone so beautiful. And now she was truly his.

Rosaline caught his satisfied eyes and looked away.

"Are you alright?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I'm fine," she lied through her teeth, feeling tears welling again, careful to keep them at bay. She still couldn't quite process what had happened. Tom sat up and looked at a clock next to his bed.

"It's almost a quarter to one. People will start coming back soon," he said.

Rosaline gingerly sat up as well, wrapping herself tightly with the sheets. Tom got up and dressed, still admiring how stunning Rosaline looked.

Rosaline got up as well and tried her best to change back into her clothes without exposing herself to him. Once she had pulled her dress back on, she realized that she could not reach the zipper.

She reluctantly looked to Tom. "Could you…?" she said softly, motioning to her zipper and taking pains to avoid looking at Tom's eyes as he walked over to her.

"Of course," he said and carefully pulled the zipper up.

When she had finished, Tom led her out of the room and walked her to the doorway to the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories. He left her at the door, leaning in to kiss her goodnight. Rosaline turned her head, forcing him to miss her lips and brush her cheek, turned on her heel, and made her way to her room, not looking back.

She entered her empty room and sat on her bed, letting her face fall into her hands, realizing that her life would never be the same.

She then saw a small porcelain doll she had received for Christmas as a child sitting on her night-table. She picked it up and examined its pale countenance. It looked virginal and innocent to her, something that, she realized as tears overcame her once again, she would never be again. She squeezed the doll in her fist, furious at Tom Riddle, and thought of him as she hurled it at the wall opposite her bed, watching it smash into many small pieces. Never again would she let someone take advantage of her. Next time, she would have her bearing on the situation; least as much as she could.

She was still enraged when Katrina and the other girls came back from the ball.

---

Once Tom was back in his room, he sunk down onto his bed, which still smelled of Rosaline. He breathed deeply, reveling in the scent. For the most part, the night had gone fairly well for him. It troubled him slightly that she had avoided his eyes after they had finished and that she had shied away from his kiss at the door. He had achieved his goal, but he would rather Rosaline's mood been a bit lighter. Still, he couldn't complain. Success was success. She would come around eventually. He would just have to be careful in his approach for a while.

Suddenly, the door opened and Avery, as well as Dolohov and the other boys in their room, came strolling through. At first sight of Avery, Tom's memory of what Rosaline had said on the balcony sprang into his mind and he sat up abruptly.

"_Avery_," Tom growled in a tone that would chill the blood of even the strongest wizard. "A word…"

Avery turned to Tom, the color draining from his face. He couldn't find the words to say…of course Tom had seen him kiss Rosaline…Tom saw everything. Why had he done it? Why couldn't he have kept his feelings for her at bay?

Avery nodded as Tom stood, considerably taller than Avery, and led the way out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the common room, down a few dark corridors, and into a dark, empty dungeon classroom, shutting the door behind him, casting a soundproofing charm.

"M-my Lord, I-I don't know what came over me…I would never…" Avery said, visibly trembling.

"It would be best, Avery, for you and for me, if you did not speak for the duration of this meeting," Tom said, his voice like cold venom. He raised his wand, pointed it at Avery and uttered one word… "_Crucio_!"

Avery's screams bounced off the stone walls of the classroom. After a few moments, Tom lifted the curse and watched Avery rock back and forth on the floor at his feet, gasping for air.

Tom saw this as a perfect opportunity to experiment with the dark spells and curses he had read about throughout his years at the school.

"Tired so soon?" Tom said sadistically, his eyes alight with a deadly rage, leaning down closer to Avery. "You'd better gather your energy, for we've only just begun."

---

The next morning, a very tired Rosaline mulled over the events of the previous night as she strolled into the Great Hall. Her heart jumped when she saw Tom. She was still wary of him, but sleep had calmed her sheepish mood.

She could tell that Tom was in an unusually happy mood as she took her seat beside him. She knew by then that when Tom was in a good mood, the reason was usually that something horrible had "happened" to someone. And when a visibly shaken Avery, his face covered in bruises and lacerations that looked somewhat fresh and what looked like deeper cuts covered with bandages, some on his hands and arms as well, limped into the Hall and sat a little ways down the table on the opposite side of Rosaline and Tom, she realized why Tom was in such an ecstatic mood.

Rosaline glanced at Tom, wanting to be appalled, but then she realized that Katrina hadn't made an appearance in the Hall that morning; she must still have been in the hospital wing experiencing the effects of Skele-Gro, which the nurse would certainly given her in order to reverse the state in which she had been found.

Apparently, Tom and Rosaline had both had a very eventful night.


	4. THREE

**Three**

"Someone as intelligent as yourself couldn't possibly think that that _fool_ was heir to the magnificent Salazar Slytherin," Tom said intensely.

It was the spring of Tom's seventh and final year at Hogwarts and Rosaline's sixth. They had been dating for over a year.

One day, when they were walking back to the common room for a free period before they both had lunch, Rosaline had, for some reason or other, brought up the previous year's capture and expulsion of the alleged Slytherin's Heir, who had opened the Chamber of Secrets and subsequently caused a student to be killed. Tom then decided that now was the right time to tell her who he really was. He hadn't done so the previous year simply because he knew she didn't know him well enough to believe him. But now was the time to tell her everything on his mind…

Rosaline stared at him, her expression surprised and confused. He grabbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into her skin, and pushed her roughly against the wall. "Tom, you're hurting me," she murmured.

"_Look at me_," Tom said vehemently. "Listen to what I say."

"What-why-" She started.

"_I_ am the heir of Slytherin," he said in a low, serious voice.

Rosaline looked at him incredulously. "Oh, Tom, you're hilarious, you really are," she said dryly. He couldn't be serious…

"What could _possibly _have given you the notion that I'm joking?" Tom asked irritably.

"But, you couldn't…you're lying to me," she said definitely, narrowing her eyes.

"I've never lied to you, Rosaline, and you know it," he said, not blinking.

"But you caught him," she said, reaching for any excuse not to believe him.

Tom grinned haughtily, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Another brilliant plan. When the Mudblood was killed, I figured it had gone far enough, even though I wanted to leave the Chamber open for much longer," he said arrogantly. "Everyone, all the teachers were on too high alert, and I didn't want to give them any extra chance to catch _me_, so I picked a likely suspect to frame."

Rosaline looked at him, feeling something she couldn't describe. His intense eyes searched her face for any sign of belief.

"Prove it," she whispered.

Tom grew even more irritated. Then, he thought of the ring he wore on his ring finger. The one he'd acquired that summer on his trip to his uncle's house. Salazar Slytherin's ring. He slowly lifted the hand with the ring up so it was level with Rosaline's face.

"Where do you think this came from?" He growled. "It belonged to Slytherin himself, and it is mine by birthright."

Rosaline gasped audibly at the sight of the ring. It was very large and slightly garish, with large black stones set in heavy, antique gold. She knew in her heart the ring was genuine and could no longer deny that Tom was telling the truth. It felt as if fire had consumed her insides. She was standing in a corridor with _Salazar Slytherin's heir_. It all made sense. Tom had power in his _blood. _That was why he was able to control everyone around him so easily.

"This explains _so_ much," she whispered softly. She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with pride in the fact that the heir of Slytherin considered her his. He smirked and kissed her, heightening her thrill.

"I'd show you the Chamber," he whispered into her mouth. "But I've already sealed it, I wouldn't want to risk anything…" Rosaline nodded and smiled.

"Come," he said, grabbing her hand. "Let's go to the dormitories. No one will be there, we'll be all alone…" He grinned seductively. Rosaline shook her head and laughed. She followed him back to the common room and on the familiar journey up to his dormitory. They walked into his room and Tom immediately backed her onto his bed and stared into her eyes. For the first time, she returned the fiery gaze with full force.

After a moment, he suddenly broke the gaze and sat next to her, staring at his ring.

Rosaline stared at him inquisitively. "What's wrong?" She asked.

Tom again rose his eyes to hers, resuming his fiery gaze.

"Rosaline, someone like you never fit into my plans before last year. It would have been too tedious, for I had much to do. I still have much to do now, but I think you'd be a good addition to my plans. You're perfect," he growled, smirking maliciously while she soaked it up.

"Go on…" she breathed.

"Obviously, things are much less dull with you around," he said. "And I don't like the idea of you being with anyone else or by yourself."

She smirked back at him, the fiery feeling of pride welling up in her chest again.

"As you know, I'll be graduating this year. I have already…inherited…a great deal of money from my father's…unfortunate…death, which will enable me to carry out my plans much more easily, and allow us to live quite luxuriously," he paused and gazed at her. She stared back, vaguely aware of the direction in which he was headed. Suddenly, indecision dampened the fire within her.

"By the time you graduate, I should be well-established. I want you to promise you'll join me then."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You want me to…"

"Yes, I want you to marry me after you graduate. I want you by my side at all times. Just think, I'll be the most powerful wizard in the world, and you could have anything you want. There's no one more worthy than you, Rosaline."

She looked down, avoiding his eyes. Could she decide immediately? She was so young. "I…" she couldn't finish.

"Rosaline, say yes," he said slightly urgently. "You may be exceedingly bright and cunning, but you're still just as vulnerable as ever. Think of the protection I could provide you. You'd never need to see your family, your _father_ again, I'd make sure of it." His words were extremely persuasive. "Never again would you have to be alone in the dark, in an empty bed, or fall prey to anyone's sadistic desires."

She felt the blood drain from her face. How could he know of her secret fear, or of what had happened to her in her own dark, empty bed as a defenseless child?

He continued the relentless persuasion that he had honed and mastered over the years. "I could do those things and more for you. Say yes. I'll protect you, give you _everything_ you could ever want." Her breath caught as his hand moved up and down her side. "Be mine, Rosaline." His words came out in a barely audible whisper.

She needed to hear no more. "Yes!" She gasped. She felt as if she would melt from the burning inside her. Tom kissed her and took the big black and gold ring from his finger, shrunk the band to fit hers, since his hands were considerably larger, and slipped it onto her left ring finger. It fit her perfectly, but looked huge against her thin, pale hand.

"Wear this until I can buy you a real one," he said. Rosaline looked down at the ring on her hand in awe.

"You made the right choice, Rosaline. I will be the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen," he said, his hand gripping her waist. "And now that I have you, I have everything." Tom whispered in her ear.

"But what will you do about my family?" Rosaline asked suddenly, pulling away to look at his face and feeling childishly vulnerable.

"I'll do whatever I _have _to do in order to ensure our future together," he said sharply, staring deeply into her eyes. "I want you and I'll have you, and if your family gets in the way, the better for me, the worse for them," he concluded firmly.

It was this kind of exertion of power that drove Rosaline over the edge. She wanted then, more than ever before, for him to touch her. Her body craved the feeling of his skin against hers.

As if reading her mind, Tom said leaned in quickly and kissed her passionately. Rosaline threw her arms around his neck and he leaned forward, pushing her underneath him.

Once they had removed their clothes, Rosaline's breathing became shallow as Tom roughly pushed her legs apart and plunged into her.

His strokes were slow and taunting, and Rosaline arched underneath him.

"Harder, Tom, please!" she panted.

"Rosaline, you know how I feel about pleading," he said in a somewhat strained voice.

"Tom!" she cried, writhing beneath him and digging her nails into his back, breaking the skin. "Really! I mean it, I can't stand this!"

"Well, you'd better stand it because I'm nowhere near ready yet," he growled, looking into her eyes, reveling in the control he had over her.

Gradually, he increased his speed, his strokes becoming harder, more forceful. This was accompanied, much to Tom's delight, by Rosaline's passionate cries of ecstasy. They reached the end simultaneously with moans from both of them. After a moment, Tom slipped out of her and sank onto the bed beside her.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Tom stretched his arm around Rosaline, and she rolled over and laid her head on his chest. She then realized where she was and what had happened. She sat up and looked at him.

"What?" Tom asked her from where he lay. He reached around her and stroked her back.

"I'm going to marry you," she said, her eyes alight, excitement once again rising up in her chest. She reached over him and leaned down to kiss him, her long, shiny chestnut hair brushing over his chest.

Tom broke the embrace and flipped her so that he was on top, leaning over her. He smiled at her, her hair falling messily around her perfect face. Wrapped in the sheets, looking completely ravished, she was the embodiment of perfection.

"It pleases me immensely that you're so enthusiastic," he said smugly. He was unbelievably pleased with himself. He had just assured himself the hand of the most desirable girl in school, the one everyone wanted, but no one could have because she was his now. She always would be. She made him more powerful than he ever could have been without her.

He laid back down and she resumed laying her head against his chest while he spoke to her. "Everything you've ever wanted will be yours very soon," he said again, his voice soothing her.

She sighed and smiled. She knew he was right, and it made her more ecstatic than she'd ever been.

They remained in bed for a short while before getting up and redressing. Rosaline then went into bathroom, where Tom followed her, and made sure her clothes were presentable. She fixed her hair as Tom leaned gracefully against the wall behind her and watched intently. She saw his face behind her in the mirror and grinned and shook her head. He took note of how her smile lit up the otherwise dank room. When she had finished, Tom kissed her once more. She followed him into the corridors, clutching his hand as he led her to the Great Hall.

Rosaline's mood was quiet and subdued as they walked. She frequently gazed down at her left hand to look at the ring. Slytherin's ring. Tom's ring. She imagined gleefully how jealous all the girls in her house would be when they realized she was wearing Tom Riddle's ring. Rosaline and Tom, however, silently agreed that there was no need to speak of their plans. They would be known to everyone in due time.

Tom looked down at Rosaline and caught her gazing at the ring. Again, he was ecstatic with himself for winning such a beautiful and worthy prize. She was his now, now and forever.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**AN: **Finally finished. It's not very long, but it says what I wanted it to say, so it should be fine. I may yet make some changes, but read this for now. Sorry for the delay, I had kind of a mental blockage of creativity. Read and **REVIEW**.


	5. FOUR

**Four**

Rosaline sat in the afternoon-sun-drenched living room of the manor Tom had bought for them with his "inheritance" a few years before. She was alone in the spacious manor, save for the house elf. Beams of light streamed into the room, across the lavish antique furnishings.

She and Tom had been married for almost five years.

In that time, she had become Rosaline Riddle, who had, somewhat to her joy and somewhat to her disdain, long since taken the place of Rosaline Bordenave.

In that time, Tom had also changed. He was not as passionate about her as he was when he was seventeen, but that was only to be expected of a married man. More to Rosaline's displeasure, he had developed a need to travel abroad for months at a time, never disclosing to her where he was going, only telling her that he would not be very long. His secrecy was something to which she was accustomed, and she had always tended to be secretive as well, but from Tom, it had never affected her as directly as it did after they were married.

Rosaline had noticed that any attempt to tamper with or threaten this secrecy could set Tom off and turn him into a raging madman.

She remembered the incident she had unknowingly provoked a few days before his last trip. She had asked him where he was going and where he had been going, mostly just out of sheer curiosity. Tom had not given her a straight answer and made to end the conversation.

"It's really nothing out of the ordinary, darling, just something I have to do for work," he said, busying himself with fixing the sleeve of his shirt, not meeting Rosaline's eyes.

"But what could you be doing to keep you away for months at a time?" She inquired. "You work for a shop-owner."

Tom's eyes darted up at her. "I'm growing extremely weary of your nagging, Rosaline," he said threateningly.

"I'm not nagging, I'm just asking you a question," she said irritably. "One would think you have something to hide." Her last statement was drenched in mock, as well as some genuine, suspicion.

Tom did not respond immediately; he stood glaring at her with his terrifying black eyes. Rosaline was sure she'd just seen them flash red. His chest rose and fell as he took fuming breaths.

Finally, he took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. He looked down at the table next to him and saw a glass vase. With one swipe of his strong hand, he knocked the vase off the table and sent it flying into the wall that stood a few feet away. Rosaline watched in shock as it smashed into hundreds of shimmering pieces with a loud crash.

Tom took another step towards Rosaline and gripped her arms roughly. "Don't you _think_ that if what I have been doing and what I am going to do concerned _you_ in the least bit, I let you know?" He growled exasperatedly.

Rosaline could not find her words. Tom's grip on her arms tightened as his eyes bore into hers. After a moment, he released her and she stumbled, trying to keep her balance.

Tom strode quickly out of the room and barked orders on his way at the house elf, who had been cowering in a corner, to take care of the mess.

Rosaline surveyed the shards of glass scattered across the floor beneath the dent in the wall the vase had made upon contact. The vase had been a wedding present of which she had never been very fond. She decided to tell the house elf just to dispose of the shards and not to bother to recompose the vase. Somewhere at the other end of the house, Rosaline had heard the door of Tom's study slam.

This memory was still fresh in Rosaline's mind as she sat in the living room. That was when she had learned never to press Tom on his personal endeavors. She rolled her eyes in spite of how nervous the incident had made her. He could be so childish.

These trips, however, were extremely irksome to her. She was not one to enjoy being kept in the dark, and she still wondered where it was that Tom went. Ever since they'd been married, Tom had been going off and leaving her alone in their manor. Rosaline wouldn't have minded if she knew where he was going, but not being told only lead her to suspect the worst. She couldn't say that she'd really care if Tom were having an affair, but it annoyed her to think that he was making a fool of her by not telling her.

And if an affair were the case, Tom had unbelievable gall to carry it on as he did. He had even taken one of his trips the day after their wedding night. Tom's having an affair would also explain his lack of excitement towards her as of late. These thoughts intrigued her, but she knew better than to confront Tom with them.

The last time Tom had been confronted by someone other than herself had been at her family's estate five years prior. She let out a small laugh as she thought about her family's reaction to her decision to marry Tom, a half-blood. If only they had known who he really was. If Rosaline had had any respect for them, she would have told them, but she had none, and they wouldn't have believed her anyway.

She had taken Tom to her family's estate the summer after her graduation. She had then introduced him to her parents and informed them that she and Tom were to be married in the fall. Her mother, still quite beautiful for her age, had raised an eyebrow and looked Tom up and down, but didn't dare say a word of approval or disapproval.

Her father, however, had fumed and begun to make a scene until Tom stepped up to him. The two men were about the same height, but Tom had a much more intimidating presence. By the time they left, Rosaline's father was a rumpled mess on the floor, sitting disoriented against the smashed bureau into which he had collided. Tom had then told her father not to be offended if he was not invited to the wedding ceremony.

They hadn't since heard from her parents. It was then, that summer day at her parents' estate that she'd realized the full extent of the power Tom possessed to control the people around him.

Rosaline looked out the window across the rolling countryside. The thought of Tom's power had led her to another memory, one of the night before Tom was to leave on the trip he was currently still on.

That night, they had been having sex more passionately than was usual for them as of late, and Rosaline was becoming lost in the heat.

"Tom!" She allowed herself to gasp as Tom drove forcefully into her. Upon hearing the gasp, however, Tom suddenly jerked to a stop, but remained inside of her. He supported himself with one hand and used the other to savagely grab Rosaline's jaw and hold her face steady to look at him. She stared back with wide, slightly annoyed, but more shocked eyes. Tom was more agitated than she had seen him in a long while.

"_Do not ever _call me by that filthy Muggle name while we are in bed," he hissed viciously.

"Wh-what do you want me to call you, then?" she replied, breathless and confused in spite of herself.

Tom glared deep into her eyes for a few moments, then decided it was right to tell her. "I want you to call me…Voldemort." The name rolled off his tongue with a lingering malice.

Rosaline could not deny the fact that she was somewhat excited by this sudden change, even though she expected that nothing good could come of this new name. "Alright," she sighed. "_Voldemort._" She growled the name in the breathy voice that Tom could not resist.

He smirked maliciously as he resumed his thrusting. He leaned his head down to kiss her mouth, then pulled his face away from hers. "Again," he said, his voice slightly strained.

Rosaline had noticed the change in Tom when she had uttered the strange name. When she said it again, louder and with more force, she could feel his entire body stiffen and the muscles in his back grow tense under her fingers. He emitted guttural sounds that she had never heard before.

Extremely excited, Rosaline began to reach around his back to flip them over so that she was on top, but Tom swiftly grabbed her wrist and pinned her back down beneath him. He lowered his head next to hers so that his hair brushed against her cheek and began to bite and kiss the sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder.

Rosaline had always known Tom to be quite dominant in all arenas, especially that of the bedroom, but she had never experienced him like he was that night. As pleasurable as it had been, something about that name was unnerving to her. She couldn't place it, but she knew something about it was not quite right.

---

It was mid-afternoon when Tom had arrived before the large stone steps outside of his manor in the country. The sun was shining, spreading a rich golden light over the gardens and shrubbery scattered across the land around the house. The scene was quite a change from the views of dark, dirty alleyways, dimly lit streets, and gaudy interiors of sitting rooms of houses of the wealthy.

He glanced around with a scowl on his face, taking in the property that he had been away from for two months. He noticed that some of the bushes in the front needed pruning and made a mental note to tell the house-elf.

He then walked up the steps and, after saying a quick unlocking spell, pushed open the great oak doors and stepped into his foyer. He walked from across the marble floors under the high ceiling and chandelier of the foyer, and down the hallway. He stopped in front of the doorway of the living room and saw his wife sitting in a burgundy-upholstered chair, staring dreamily out the window.


	6. FIVE

**Five**

Tom could not deny the fact that seeing Rosaline after months away was very pleasant. He stood in the doorway, taking her in. She didn't notice him. A few minutes passed.

"Rosaline," he said clearly and audibly. Rosaline visibly jumped in her chair at the unexpected sound of his voice. She stared at him with wary eyes.

"You scared me. I had no idea you were home," she said, sighing. "How long have you been here?"

"I've only just walked in the door," he said, grinning his dangerous grin, as he strolled towards her. He leisurely sat himself down in the chair opposite her and continued staring at her.

She was glad to have another person in the house with her, but Tom was in an unusual mood and was making her slightly uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. "How was your trip, darling?" She asked, not showing her discomfort.

"Extremely tedious and rather dark, but _unbelievably_ successful," he said slowly. He sensed something amiss in Rosaline's voice, something he did not like. An idea struck him. "Tell the house elf to arrange a dinner for us, an elegant one, while I go make myself proper."

"Of course," she said. She was not in the mood for an intimate dinner, but she was also not in the mood to do battle. She was actually quite restless. Tom stood and leaned down to kiss her briefly on the lips, then strolled out on the room and up the stairs.

---

The dining room of the Riddle house was quite gothic. The only source of light was from the two antique candles on the table, and two others on the wall next to the table. The walls were covered in burgundy wallpaper that looked like satin, and the long table was made of dark mahogany. At one end sat Tom, hair combed back and parted on the side, impeccably groomed, as always, his face made to look slightly demonic in the fiery candlelight, his eyes shining. At the other end sat Rosaline, lovely as ever, chestnut hair gleaming, icy blue eyes smoldering.

"Rosaline, you look absolutely ravishing tonight," Tom said suddenly, in a husky voice.

"Do I?" Rosaline looked up, her full lips twisted into a smirk. She stared at her husband for a few minutes. He looked unusually relaxed, his left hand resting negligently on the table in front of him. His hands were the same as they had always been, large, square, and powerful; now, however, they were more weathered and coarse. She noticed the silver wedding band glinting in the candlelight on his ring finger. On his right hand, she noticed the heavy gold and black ring; Slytherin's ring. The ring she wore before receiving her own diamond engagement ring and later, wedding ring, both of which she wore on her left ring finger. The large ring looked much better on his finger than it had on her small, rather thin one.

Looking at Tom, she realized that something had changed in his demeanor. He was no longer tense and stressed, but now upheld himself with a cocksure, somewhat arrogant manner, similar to that of when he was in school, only now he was older and exuded an even more powerful aura. He leaned back leisurely in his chair and cocked his head slightly, waiting for her to continue.

She had fallen under Tom's charm once again, but one thought was bothering her. "If I'm so _ravishing, _why do you keep leaving me?" She asked innocently, with a tinge of mocking. She knew that this question would bother him, but the topic had been eating away at her all day. She had never been one to give in easily, and she was not going to start then.

"Must you always drag this out?" He said, not moving from his relaxed position in the chair, his voice dangerously quiet. "I would rather you didn't at the moment; I'm rather weary of the subject, having been away for two months. I'm quite exhausted." He was seemingly calm, but Rosaline knew better; rage was lying just beneath his words.

"I'll bet you are," she said shortly, not breaking eye contact, becoming more irritated by the second, not caring if she set Tom off.

His eyes flashed. "What are you implying?"

"You must really think I'm dull, Tom," she said, the volume of her voice rising. "I don't care what kind of affair you're having, but must you make a fool of me, leaving me here alone and bored while you go around the country doing whatever you please?"

Tom slammed a fist upon the table, rattling the plates and silverware, and stood up, shoving his chair back as he stood. "You think I'm having and affair?" He all but shouted. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, gripping the edges of the table and leaning in. "What I'm doing will change the _history_ of all magic, and you think I'd waste my time having a bloody _affair_?"

He stared at Rosaline's defiant face for a few moments. He had the mind to walk out of the room right then, but his last excursion had been so successful, he couldn't stay enraged. He hadn't seen the fiery side of Rosaline in years, it seemed, and he surprised by its return. He regained his composure and stood up straight, set on using his charm to seduce his wife into not prying any more than she already had.

"Rosaline, my darling," he said, strolling slowly over to her side of the table. "I understand completely why you would assume what you did, but if you could only know what I'm doing. If I could only tell you how powerful this procedure is going to make me…"

He stood behind her chair and grazed her back with his long fingers, sending chills down her spine. Her breathing quickened, but she was determined to hide it, to play along with his game, as she always had. "Then why don't you just tell me?" She asked skeptically, staring straight ahead.

"You'll know in good time. Everyone will," he said, bringing his hands up to caress her neck and shoulders and collarbone, causing her to break out in goosebumps. He leaned his head down, level with hers, barely able to control his desire, and whispered in her ear, "I don't know why I'd need to have an affair when no one could compare to you."

"Oh, is that s-" She was cut off when Tom suddenly spun her chair around to face him. Before she could even be shocked, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her up to him, and kissed her with more passion than he had shown in years. He shoved her chair out of the way, causing it to fall over with a loud thud on the hard-wood floor, and grabbed her by the backs of her knees, lifting her as she threw her arms around his neck. They tore at each others' clothes as he sat her down roughly on the table so that she was facing him with her legs around his waist.

When they were both undressed, Tom shoved the plates and silverware off the table, oblivious to the fact that they shattered when they hit the floor. He broke their fiery kiss only to raise a hand to the still-lit candles and stare at them, making them go out in small puffs of smoke, leaving the room almost completely dark, save for the candles on the wall. He waved the same hand and the candlesticks flew over, staining the tablecloth with hot wax.

Tom shoved Rosaline further onto the table, underneath him, and without warning, drove into her with more force than she was used to. Her surprised gasp only aroused him more. Rosaline writhed underneath him, one hand on his back, nails digging into his skin until he bled, the other gripping the tablecloth beneath her in a tight fist, trying to stabilize herself beneath Tom's violent thrusts.

When the end was near, Rosaline feared that she would not survive it. She cried out as shock after shock coursed through her body. Tom grunted and stifled her cries with his mouth, biting down much too hard on her bottom lip, causing her to drag her nails down his back, creating long, red scratches. Tom finished moments later, and then collapsed on top of her, both of them covered in perspiration and panting deeply.

After a few moments, Tom had caught his breath. He kissed Rosaline's neck a few times. "Let's go upstairs, shall we?" He growled in her ear.

"Alright then," she said huskily, feeling slightly lightheaded. Tom collected her in his arms and carried her up the winding staircase to their bedroom.

**AN: Sorry for the shortness and the overall lack of updating, I've been short on time lately. Please R&R!**


	7. SIX

**Six**

A small, quivering hand grasped the cold, heavy brass knocker on the dark mahogany door of the looming manor house. The hand's owner glanced up at the metallic plate above the doorway, inscribed with the word "Riddle," inhaled and exhaled quickly, and let the knocker fall against the door with a loud _clang. _

Seconds later, a strikingly elegant and beautiful woman stood in the doorway.

"Rosaline."

Rosaline surveyed the tiny young woman standing on the other side of her doorway with a hawk's eye. She was dressed rather finely, but her poor posture and insecure, nervous air revealed that she was merely a girl, only eighteen years of age to Rosaline's twenty-six. She was Catherine Avery, just married to Brice Avery, a longtime and highly ranked member of Tom Riddle's "inner circle," as Rosaline knew them. She replied coldly, "Catherine. Please come in, you must be freezing."

"Thank you," the woman said breathlessly. Her voice was shrill and girlish. Rosaline rolled her eyes as she turned her back and led Catherine into the manor's sitting room. The winter sky outside was a dreary gray.

"So, Catherine, what brings you here on this miserable day?" Rosaline asked, an air of impatience in her voice. She had never been one for small talk, idle chatter.

"Well…" Catherine took a moment to collect herself, then spoke again. "It's about Brice."

Rosaline nodded stoically, signaling Catherine to continue.

"He's been acting rather strange lately."

Rosaline smirked. "I've never known Brice to act any other way."

Catherine smiled uneasily, appearing more nervous than she had in the doorway. "I'm afraid it's more serious than you may think…" she swallowed, then continued. "He acts a madman, Rosaline. He barely eats, and I know he doesn't sleep. I wake in the night to hear him roaming the halls of our house, grumbling, talking to himself. It worries me to death."

Rosaline opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "Rosaline, please…I found this in his study earlier this week. I've been debating with myself on whether or not to confront you, but I could stand it no longer." She gulped again and handed over a photograph.

Rosaline raised her eyebrows as she realized that she was looking down at a portrait of herself at age fifteen or sixteen. Memories of the incident at the Christmas Ball came flying back into her head, which she shook slowly. Brice had never grown up; it was no wonder he had married a child. He was just as much of a stupid git as he had been in school.

"Catherine, I honestly don't know why your husband has a picture of me as a girl in his study."

"But, Rosaline, you must know something, anything…has Brice been to…see you…?"

The simpering, foolish girl was beginning to grate on Rosaline's nerves. "Do you accuse me?" she said with the likes of a steel knife.

"N-no, of course not, I was only--"

"Why would I have anything to do with your pathetic husband, who obviously cannot grow out of a stupid infatuation he had with me when we were, funny, not much younger than you, when I am married to _Tom Riddle, _the Dark Lord himself?"

Catherine's lip quivered.

"I've had enough." Rosaline called the house elf and told it to lead Mrs. Avery out of her manor immediately.

---

Closed off in his study, Tom Riddle heard a door slam. Always insistent upon knowing every going-on in his manor, he abandoned his work and ventured downstairs. There, he found his wife glaring maliciously out the window of the sitting room.

"Who was at the door, darling?" he asked lightly.

"Catherine Avery," she replied coldly, not breaking her gaze out the window.

Tom smirked mirthfully. "Ah, the child. What did she want?"

Rosaline finally turned to face Tom. "Something ridiculous about Brice." As soon as she uttered the words, an idea sprung forward in her head.

Tom had been working tirelessly for months; although his "trips" were fewer and farther between, he barricaded himself in his study for days at a time. He and Rosaline barely spoke and it was a rare occasion for them to share a bed. His behavior irritated her greatly as she had grown bored and restless. The gears in her mind turned as she thought of how Tom would react if he found out she was having an affair. He would be jealous, no doubt, and she, of course, would be no worse for the wear. Avery…she honestly didn't care what happened to him. Tom wouldn't blame her, especially as he knew of what Avery was capable. Avery had almost been the undoing of her and Tom, and now that she and Tom had grown distant, he would be the thread that sewed them back together. Boredom made Rosaline think of very bad things.

As he spoke, she studied Tom's every reaction. As she expected, she saw the slightest shadow cross his face.

"What of him?"

"Well, apparently, he's been behaving strangely for a while."

Tom paused thoughtfully. "He _has _been rather unfocused at our past few meetings." His eyes snapped back to Rosaline's flawless face. "What does that have to do with you? He hasn't been after you again, has he?"

Rosaline delighted in the way Tom's eyes flashed and his tall, sweeping body throbbed with jealousy. "Heavens, no," she said dramatically and turned her face away, smirking.

Tom scowled and nodded slowly. "I'm going back to work."

Rosaline rolled her eyes. She knew better than to ask what it was that he did as "work," but she didn't much care, as she'd soon be starting work of her own. Tom's thoughts as he retreated back into his study were not her concern at the moment, but would play a rather large part in the events to come.

---

Rosaline tossed about her idea concerning Brice for a few weeks, the way a cat on its back would toss a mouse it had trapped and killed. Her plans would not be solidified, however, until another surprise visitor came to her door.

Hearing the clanging of the knocker, Rosaline walked to the door and pulled it open to reveal a most haggard-looking Brice Avery. What Catherine had said was true; there were dark circles under his eyes and he appeared somewhat malnourished. Rosaline blinked, a smile slowly playing on her lips.

"I-I've brought something for my Lord," he said slowly. A dark shadow of stubble covered the lower half of his face, revealing that he hadn't bothered to shave recently.

"Come in, then. I'll have the house elf make tea."

"Oh, n--"

"I insist, Brice," Rosaline purred. Avery shuddered and followed her into the sitting room, placing the package he had been carrying on a table in the foyer.

Sitting in a chair facing Avery, Rosaline eyed him hungrily. "Tom's away on one of his outings again, just left yesterday."

"I-is he, now?"

Rosaline nodded solemnly, looking at Avery from behind her teacup. The game became more fun by the minute as she watched him.

"Your little girl was here a few weeks ago, did she tell you?"

Avery's whole body twitched slightly, in is face a mixture of surprise and dread.

"No, she didn't," he said shortly.

"She said some disturbing things, Brice. I hear you don't eat or sleep, at least with the girl, anymore."

Brice only stared at her, not knowing what to say, a cold sweat breaking out all over him.

Rosaline continued. "She also told me something else…" As his face grew more distorted, she saw another direction the game could take. "Oh, never mind." She decided to leave him in suspense as she returned to the subject of Tom's absence. She'd make him want her even more.

She went on to lament about how Tom _neglected _ her, how _ever-so-_distraught she was at his reclusive attitude of late, adopting a sulky, juvenile tone to match her eyes; every now and then, she would innocently glance up at him from under her long eyelashes.

"We don't even sleep in the same bed anymore. Well, I sleep alone in the bed…I don't think Tom even sleeps. It's as if he's not interested in me anymore…" She lowered her eyes to her lap.

Avery twitched guiltily in his chair. He knew the vague details of Tom's gradual transformation, but dared not tell Rosaline. Suddenly, a thought struck him. "So you two don't…anymore?"

Rosaline's gaze grew sultry. Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then she shook her head. She examined the fingernails on her right hand; clean, even, just the right length. She played her part well.

_Has she really changed? _Avery thought. _Has he really gotten to her?_ His heart fluttered hopefully, his need for her growing in another part of his body as his eyes traveled from her delicate jaw-line to her porcelain collarbone to the swell of her breasts where her shirt was unbuttoned, moving up and down with every breath she took.After a few moments of silence, emboldened, he ventured another question. "How long has it been?"

Rosaline slowly lifted her head to peer at him once more. She couldn't deny that the game, the way he stared at her, was exciting. She smelled Avery's desire on him the same way she had when they were young, the night of the Christmas Ball, only presently she was prepared and willing. She looked into his eyes, trying to burn them.

"Long enough," she said huskily, holding her gaze. "I'm tired of being alone, Brice."

His breathing quickened. It was all she could do to keep from smirking. "Is something wrong?" she asked as he moved his hands restlessly as if he did not know where to hold them.

"You know what I'm thinking, Rosaline."

She sighed, perhaps too dramatically. "Does what he did to you in school the last time you acted like this with me not still _burn_ in your memory?" she asked. She pushed and pulled him like the moon over the ocean's waves. She knew the push and pull drove him insane.

"We're not _children_ anymore, Rosaline," he said exasperatedly, standing up and pacing. Did she or didn't she want him? It was maddening, but in a way that only made his desire for her grow.

This game of push and pull was a game at which Rosaline had excelled for as long as she could remember. She'd been out of practice for a long time, but it seemed that her skills were long from forgotten.

He suddenly stopped his pacing and stood in front of her. Remaining seated, her legs parting ever-so-slowly, drawing him in irresistibly, she reached out and stroked the growing bulge in his pants, all the while keeping her now blazing, brazen eyes locked on his. To her great satisfaction, Avery uttered a low moan which seemed to come from deep within his chest. Her other hand trailed teasingly down her own chest and abdomen, finally burying itself between her legs. She could feel him growing dizzy with pleasure. She lowered her voice to the pervasive, husky whisper she had honed so well and gave her response: "Is that something you can prove, Brice?"

Something snapped in Avery's mind and he sprang on her like a cat pouncing on a mouse, tearing at her clothes, followed by her undergarments, savoring her, trying to devour her entirely with a passion that had been hibernating deep within him until very recently, although who was really the cat was altogether unbeknownst to him.

**AN: **FINALLY! A new chapter. I can't believe I started this story a year ago and I've only written six chapters and a prologue. Anyway, I know it's a little short, but it's kind of a to-be-continued. I was going to make it longer, but I decided to make in kind of a chapter in two parts because I wanted to publish it as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy it and PLEASE don't forget to **_review_**.


	8. SEVEN

**Seven**

Rosaline woke slowly in her bed the next morning. She was drowsy, but rested. Her pale blue eyes flickered open to be framed by her dark lashes. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled and closed her eyes again, remembering the previous day's activities. Brice had left shortly after they had finished, at frustrated, of course, by her obvious use of him.

She rolled over, and saw what she expected—an empty spot on the bed next to her. She sighed.

Suddenly, she heard someone clear their throat, making her jump. She looked up and saw her husband sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching her with an intense look on his face.

"Hello, darling," he said briskly, walking over to the side of the bed and leaning down to kiss her. She kissed back, confused. Did he know what she'd done the day before? _He can't,_ she thought, though not entirely convincing herself.

"You're back early," she said skeptically, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Not for very long. I needed to come back because when I reached my destination, I realized that I'd forgotten something."

"And what might that be?" she asked with feigned indifference; she knew it was highly unlikely that Tom would have "forgotten" anything without an ulterior motive.

Tom looked into her eyes for a moment in his unsettling, delving way. "You, Rosaline."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"I need your assistance with something, a delicate matter."

Rosaline was surprised but quite intrigued. "Go on."

"I am in dire need of something from a certain man, no one you know, but a very rich man. It's a sort of talisman, a brooch, actually, which once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw, as in the Hogwarts house?"

"Yes."

"But why--?"

"Please, do not interrupt me, Rosaline, I'll explain it to you in due time," Tom said threateningly, his face darkening. Rosaline knew better than to speak again, and kept her eyes fixed on his face.

"As I was saying, I need this brooch in the worst way. This man, the owner of this brooch, Redham, is proving to be somewhat difficult. No matter how much money I offer, he will not budge. This is where I need you."

Rosaline was growing irritated. She disliked the suspense she felt upon hearing his drawn-out story. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to use your charm…" He reached out and stroked her cheek with his large, powerful hand. "…and your incredible beauty to persuade him to sell me that brooch. If you could only understand how important it is that I have that brooch…" He trailed off.

Rosaline sighed and looked at her husband. "When do we leave?" she asked, gingerly pulling the covers off of herself and stepping out of the bed. She was at first annoyed at Tom's indifference about the previous night's actions, but upon thinking it through she realized that it was probably for the best.

She was, however, greatly intrigued by Tom's sudden request that she join him on one of his trips, and wondered whom this man was, as it was a very strange thing to hear of one who Tom Riddle could not persuade to do his bidding.

Tom leaned down to kiss her once more. "In one hour."

---

In an hour's time, Tom and Rosaline had apparated to the doorstep of a large grey manor house. The shrubbery was bare and dull and a chill hung in the air surrounding them. Tom looked down at the watch he wore.

"He's expecting us just about now." He looked over at Rosaline. "I've told him I'm bringing my sister, Mary, along," he said, removing his wedding ring.

Rosaline snorted. "Of all things to say, no one will believe that _I_ am your sister"

"Well, if I'd told him you were my wife, your charming him might not go as smoothly as I need it to." Tom suddenly glared at her. "Under no circumstances, however, are you to sleep with him. You're only to make him _think _you will."

Rosaline started at his mention of the subject, her stomach jolting unpleasantly. Was he toying with her? "As if I would!"

Did he know?

"Calm yourself, we need to be going in. Let me look at you," he said, taking hold of her shoulders and surveying her. He undid the highest button she had done on her shirt. "Now pout that way that you do…" She pouted her lips and looked up at him. "Perfect. Stunning." He suddenly kissed her in a most passionate way, sliding his hands down to her waist. She put her hands on his chest and he broke away, smirking at her.

"Your _sister_. Honestly."

Tom reached up and knocked.

After a moment, a house-elf opened the door and welcomed them into the manor. Rosaline looked around. The interior of the manor matched the exterior: everything seemed to be some shade of gray, from the window treatments to the dusty, old furniture to the floorboards beneath her feet. The house-elf lead them through a foyer into what must have been a sitting room, where an elderly, white-haired man stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting to greet his guests.

"Ah, Tom, you've come again," said the man in a pleasant but strained voice that could only belong to an elderly person. "You're really an incorrigible one, boy. And who is this you've brought with you?" Redham continued.

"This is my sister, Mary," Tom replied, placing a hand on Rosaline's back.

"Well, isn't she _beautiful_," he said as Rosaline held out her hand, inwardly cringing.

"Hello, Mr. Redham--"

"Please, dear, call me John."

"John…" she said in her sultriest voice. "What a lovely house you've got."

"Thank you, my dear, thank you," he replied, not bothering to be discreet as his eyes traveled south of her face. Rosaline glared at Tom, who pretended not to notice. She had certainly not been expecting to have to seduce an old man. Suddenly, Tom cleared his throat, which caused Redham to snap to attention.

"Sit down, won't you?" he said cordially.

The three of them took their seats, Tom maneuvering so that Rosaline sat close to Redham.

The day continued with the conversation revolving around Redham himself, his accomplishments, his wealth, his dead wife, and eventually a tour of the entire manor, concluding back in the sitting room. Rosaline got the impression that he was trying to impress her, which made her sick, but she kept her charm flowing regardless, only speaking to interject a strategic comment or compliment. Tom seemed pleased with her, and barely spoke at all. When the subject of conversation turned to what Tom had come for, Ravenclaw's brooch, Redham was all too pleased to bring it out to show it to Rosaline.

"It's beautiful," she said, the first statement she'd made that day which hadn't been entirely false. The brooch, sitting in a box of black velvet, was a large circle of antique silver encrusted with deep blue sapphires of varying sizes that sparkled in the dull light.

"It is, isn't it?" Redham said haughtily. "Rowena Ravenclaw herself wore this very brooch thousands of years ago." He spoke to her as if she were a child.

"Yes, Tom's told me all about it," she said, trying to hide her boredom.

"He has, has he? Well, he's been after this brooch for weeks now, for his shop, I assume. I won't give it to him, though. I can't bear to think of it in some shop somewhere. No, no, it belongs somewhere where it'll be treasured and adored."

"I agree completely," Rosaline said, nodding and looking at Redham with her smoky gaze.

Redham stared back, entranced. He looked Rosaline up and down slowly once more, then extended the box to her. "It's yours, my dear. Someone as gorgeous as you deserves this brooch."

Rosaline feigned innocent surprise and delight. "Oh, no, Mr. Redham—John—I couldn't, it's too valuable…"

"Nonsense. It's yours. I know you'll treasure it as I have," he said finally as he pushed the box into her hands.

Rosaline thanked him graciously and looked up at Tom expectantly. After a few moments more of idle conversation, Tom looked down at his watch nonchalantly and announced that it was late and he and Rosaline would need to be going. Redham kissed her hand once more and bid her farewell. He barely paid any attention to Tom as they left.

Once they had apparated back to their home, Tom could barely hide his happiness. His eyes blazed with glee as he placed the box safely on the table in the sitting room as he and Rosaline sat down.

**AN: Short chapter, I know. I'm either going to add to this one or start a new one soon. I'm trying to update more often, but I'm not doing a very good job of it, sorry! R&R please.**


	9. EIGHT

**Eight**

Both Rosaline and Tom sat silently in their chairs for some time.

Suddenly, Tom leaned forward, toward Rosaline. "So, tell me, how did Avery satisfy you?" he asked with slight bitterness.

Her face twitched. "You knew." She hadn't really expected anything else, despite what she'd told herself. She steeled herself against what would come next.

Tom's expression was unreadable as he began to speak. "Oh, you poor thing. I know I've been neglecting you and your needs. It pained me to use you to test Avery. You see, he'd been acting very strangely as of late, and I'd begun to question his loyalty. By having you act as bait, I would see if he could withstand committing the ultimate act of disloyalty: sleeping with my wife. It was I who let slip to little Catherine the whereabouts of Avery's picture of you, which I've known to be in his possession since we were in school."

"What are you talking about?" she snapped, confused and irritated.

Tom sighed. "I'll explain. I knew that you were feeling vindictive towards me due to the fact that I'd been neglecting you, and that you'd jump at the chance to make me jealous, which worked, as I was _monstrously_ jealous. It tortured me to think of his hands gripping you as only mine have, his lips against yours, his…" Tom faltered slightly, his breaths deepening, his eyes flashing with repressed rage. After a moment, he collected himself. "The fact of the matter is, as I've long suspected, I can no longer trust Avery to be part of my circle. He failed my test miserably, obviously, and succumbed to your seduction. So you've been a part of my plan all along without even knowing."

Rosaline took a moment to let the information she'd just received sink in. The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became. She didn't know what was worse: that Tom had used her as blatantly as she'd used Avery or that he been one step ahead of her the entire time.

"You used me as _bait?_" she said in a dangerously low voice, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

"I had to, darling. And I don't really think you're in a place to be anrgry with me, you being the one who has now committed adultery," he said calmly, almost tauntingly.

Rosaline's breathing grew shallow. She hated the control he wielded over her shamelessly. "And you did it again today."

"Well, only partially so. Had Redham made the slightest indication that he thought he would be sleeping with you, I would have killed him, regardless of the extensive cover-up work that would have needed to be done. But yes, I suppose what I had you do was similar in theory."

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments, Rosaline glaring with utmost loathing at Tom, Tom staring back with an unreadable expression.

"I'm going to have a bath," she said in her coldest voice. "It's been a very busy day." She stood up and walked briskly to the stairway, continuing her ascension without giving Tom another glance. Tom sat in his chair and waited until he heard the bedroom door slam.

He couldn't deny that he was pleased, again, with his own cleverness. He removed his necktie and undid the top buttons of his crisp shirt. He then leaned back in his chair, a high-backed, burgundy armchair, lifting his hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully. He had of course hoped Rosaline would be less incensed when he revealed his plan. He knew that she would have refused outright had he been straightforward, so he had used his cunning as a means to achieve what he needed to achieve, a process to which he had grown accustomed. He thought about the look in Rosaline's eyes before she had gone upstairs, the look of such intense loathing. He couldn't recall ever before seeing her so contemptuous, except possibly when speaking of her parents. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly and audibly.

His thoughts then turned to Rosaline's liaison with Avery. He hadn't expected anything less of her, but he had been honest in his description of how he felt about the encounter. Rosaline had now been marked by another man, almost entirely by his doing. For this reason, he could not be very angry with her, but his body shook and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he thought of what he would do to Avery at the time he saw fit. He wondered what Rosaline's face had looked like when she reached her peak with Avery, if he had even been capable of bringing her to that point. He wondered if she had dug her nails into Avery's back and left the same faint marks that had once adorned his own.

He remembered how long it had been since he and Rosaline had been intimate—he could feel it throughout his body. He despised having a weakness as trivial as this. He also remembered that all that was separating them at the moment was a flight of stairs and a few doors. He closed his eyes as he imagined Rosaline's lean body sprawled lazily in the spacious black marble tub, the room filled with hazy steam, her hair pinned back just so, and scalding hot water gliding over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs…

He could stand it no longer. At once, he jumped up from his chair and made his way up the stairs and down the hall. When he had gone through the bedroom and reached the French doors that led to the bathroom, he found that they were locked. He clenched his hand into a fist and pounded one of the doors with all his might, but it did not give. He could see candlelight flickering through the cracks.

"ROSALINE! HOW DARE YOU LOCK THIS DOOR!" he roared. Rosaline, however, remained silent inside the bathroom. He though he heard a taunting splash of water. His face contorted with rage at being denied what lay beyond the doors, he stepped back, withdrew his wand, and pointed it at the doors. In a fraction of a second, a flash of light shot toward them and they seemed to explode.

Rosaline started, somewhat shocked that her spell had not held up better than it had, then remembered that her husband was Tom Riddle, an exceedingly powerful wizard. For once, she had been counting on him taking leave again. She was still incensed with his behavior and wished nothing more than to enjoy a bath alone.

It had been quite a while since she'd seen a more frightening Tom. He walked slowly through the settling dust and debris of the doors into the dimly lit bathroom. He radiated with a mix of rage and lust in waves that spread throughout the room. Though she summoned all the strength within herself to hide it and keep a stoic face, she was more afraid of him than she'd ever been.

Tom looked at his wife in the tub, his chest heaving with each breath he took. She was just as he'd imagined. He did not take his eyes from her face as he walked slowly over to the tub. When he stood next to it and began to loosen his belt, she let the tiniest flicker of fear pass over her countenance, just as she had done during their first encounter in the corridor at school. What little restraint he still held left him at that moment and, after violently ripping off his pants, he pounced.

Hot water splashed all over the dark stone of the bathroom floor and walls. It seeped through the button-down shirt Tom still wore as he raked his hands over Rosaline's slick body, his movements slowed by the water encasing them, and drove his tongue forcefully into her soft mouth. She thrashed about beneath him, sending even more water flying, but he paid it no mind.

"TOM!" she shrieked as water splashed against her face, causing her to sputter. "Get off!" she choked out, pushing fervently against his broad shoulders, ripping at his now-soaked shirt.

He pulled his face away from where he had been biting her neck and glared at her. Then, without warning, his hands reached beneath the water and thrust her legs apart. Tom wasted no more time and plunged himself into her with more force than ever before.

Rosaline cried out in shock and slight pain. She had forgotten how very large Tom was. Her body responded to his thrusts, but she had not been ready for him. He felt foreign to her. She was forced to brace herself by gripping the edges of the tub on either side of her with her hands and bending her legs so as to plant her feet on the tub's walls. This position, however, allowed Tom to plunge deeper inside of her than ever before, a sensation which, had the circumstances been different, would have taken Rosaline to new heights of pleasure. Nevertheless, she saw no point in fighting him and simply braced herself against his ever-strengthening thrusts, the occasional low moan escaping her mouth. Tom's hands gripped the edge of the tub behind Rosaline as he neared his limit. The guttural sounds he made seemed to come from deep within his chest, and Rosaline was reminded of the first time she had called him "Voldemort" in bed.

Tom savored the way her body was braced tautly beneath him, her breasts moving up and down in time with his thrusts. She had turned her face from his as he sensed himself nearing the end, but he took no notice, focusing more on the explosion that was about to happen. When it did, he came harder than ever before, the sensation seemingly lasting forever. When he had drained himself, he collapsed on top of her in the water, his head against her shoulder, panting heavily. He half-expected her to push him away again, but he soon found that she was panting as well, apparently exhausted, trembling violently as she let her legs slip limply back into the water.

"Rosaline…" he said sternly once he'd recovered a bit, lifting his head to look at her. She, however, kept her head turned sideways so as not to face him, which he found greatly irritating. He grabbed her chin and wrenched her head around to face him. Her eyes held the same loathing as they had in the sitting room. He smirked.

"Come now, Rosaline, you cannot say that wasn't the least bit pleasurable for you," he said impatiently. She only glared, refusing to speak. He could see that his actions had clearly upset her. He knew he had perhaps been too forceful and should have kept more control, if only for the sake of being able to use his mind to exert more control over his body than vice versa. He didn't, however, wish to live with a woman who so vehemently scorned his presence, so he thought of a way to repay her, knowing after this encounter that she could do him no real harm.

"Darling…" he purred in her ear. "You've been more helpful than I could ever have imagined these past few days. I don't blame you for letting your loyalty waver just once, as it was mostly my doing. I believe, however, that you have earned the right to…_do as you please_ in bed with me."

At first Rosaline, who was still shaking slightly from Tom's attack, wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep. But as her breathing began to even out, she considered his offer. From the beginning of their relationship, it had always been Tom who had wielded the control in bed. She now felt, especially after this particular encounter, that she should most definitely take advantage of this opportunity. Excitement slowly seeped in to replace her rage and exhaustion.

She pushed gently against him, still wordlessly, indicating that it was time to remove themselves from the tub. Tom watched her closely as she stood, her perfect body shining damply as water dripped from it onto the floor, and raised her arms to take the pins out of her hair. She shook her head and it fell in a chestnut wave around her head, pieces of it still damp from the water. She then turned and walked through the rubble where the doors once stood and towards the bed, next to which she stopped and looked up and Tom, who had followed her there. She faced him, but didn't meet his eyes as she carefully unbuttoned the soaked shirt clinging to his pale skin and peeled it slowly off of him. It had been a long time since she'd admired him this closely. She let her eyes linger over his bare chest for a moment before she finally looked up at his face.

"Lie down," she demanded, nodding slightly towards the bed.

Tom obeyed, intrigued and once again aroused. Once he was lying flat on the bed, Rosaline straddled him. She stroked him so as to return him to another erection, enjoying the sharp intakes of breath he took at her touch. Once he was at his impressive full height, she mounted him excruciatingly slowly.

As soon as he was fully inside of her, she began to move up and down. The control she had at this moment over such a powerful man was a very strong aphrodisiac. She fought to keep her movements slow and deliberate so as to prolong the growing ecstasy inside of her.

"Rosaline…" Tom growled and he took hold of her hips and lifted his own in time with her movements. He had never seen Rosaline from this angle before him and could not deny that it was indeed a pleasant view. She reminded him of a goddess as she thrust herself ever the more quickly up and down upon him, arching her back and thrusting forward her chest. He slid his hands up over her stomach and grasped her breasts, causing her to moan. She leaned forward and stared into his eyes before kissing his hot mouth. She could sense him nearing his limit as quickly as she was approaching her own. When she came, she felt as though flames had burst through her entire body, beginning with the place where their bodies connected. She felt him exploding simultaneously and dug her nails violently into his chest and dragged them down his abdomen, feeling the need to cause him pain in response to his behavior in the tub.

When it was over, she slid limply off of him and lay still on the bed next to him, he body heaving from the breaths she was taking. She looked at Tom and he stared back at her.

Tom had thoroughly enjoyed the experience, despite stinging of the cuts on his chest. He had expected that this was Rosaline's way of letting out her anger. From the way she was looking at him, he knew that the balance between them had been restored.

Realizing that there was a chill in the bedroom as she was still somewhat wet from the tub, she pulled the thick comforter over herself as Tom did the same. He leaned over to kiss her lips once more before they fell asleep, and she did not object.


	10. NINE

**Nine**

The next two months were the best in Tom and Rosaline's relationship to date. Anger rarely flared up between them; Tom did not embark on any more trips which would keep him away from the manor and Rosaline was no longer bored. Tom's "followers" would visit frequently, with Avery notably absent. Some of them Rosaline knew, some she'd never before seen, but it never failed for making life more interesting.

Of course, whenever guests would arrive, Tom would usher them into his study for mysterious meetings. These meetings were a source of curiosity for Rosaline, but she knew better than to inquire about their nature. After the meeting had been adjourned, the guests and Tom and Rosaline would gather for drinks and such, which was always amusing. Rosaline, however, never touched alcohol as a rule; she'd seen what it did to people and their judgment many times throughout her childhood and preferred to keep her mind under her own control and watch as others succumbed to the effects of the drug.

Tom and Rosaline had also never been more in sync in the bedroom. Their sexual habits were mutually pleasurable, if not nearly insatiable, and their passion almost matched that of their first year of marriage. Although Tom never again allowed Rosaline as much control as he had that night two months earlier after his forceful attack in the bathtub, both parties were left most satisfied after a given night's (or morning's or afternoon's, for that matter) activities.

One particular morning, however, Rosaline woke feeling sick to her stomach. She rolled over, away from Tom, who was still asleep, and made her way to the bathroom, where she vomited. When she was through, she sat on the floor next to the toilet, confused. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been as sick as she was. She never drank, so that couldn't have caused it. She decided, although still uneasy, that it must have been something she'd eaten the night before and, after washing out her mouth, went back to bed.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom sharply, causing Rosaline to start, as she'd thought him still asleep.

"Nothing, nothing, I was just feeling a bit…out of sorts," she answered wearily.

"Shall I call for a potion?"

"No, no, I'll just go back to sleep…" she said, as she was feeling quite drained.

"Well, if you're sure," he said nonchalantly. "I've got work to do today, at the shop, and then Nott and Mulciber will stop by later tonight."

Rosaline simply grunted in response. She was beginning to feel the need to be sick again. As soon as Tom was gone from the room, she rushed again to the bathroom.

---

After several more trips to the bathroom, Rosaline felt better, but still weary. After rinsing her mouth once more, she looked up to stare into the mirror above her sink. She had expected herself to look pale and peaky, but instead she saw a brightness in her features she had never seen before. She shook her head, perplexed, and went back to the bed to lie down.

As she looked up at the ceiling, her mind wandered. She thought about her relationship with Tom as of late, and how much better it had been. The past eight weeks had been the best she'd had in a long while…

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. _Eight weeks…_ she thought. _It can't be…not possibly…but not since that night…could it be?_

She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and pointed it at her abdomen, muttering an incantation. A second later, pink sparks flew out of her wand as she held it in front of her and she felt the blood drain from her face. She had never even come close to entertaining the notion of having a child, and knew that the chances of her being an adequate mother were quite slim. And what would Tom think? She knew that what he might do or say was completely unpredictable, which frightened her slightly.

Another thought suddenly grabbed hold of her, as if to choke her. _Avery, _she thought, remembering their encounter more vividly than she would have liked. She again pointed her wand at her abdomen, spoke another incantation, and waited. After a moment, the wand emitted smoky letters: first an "R," a "C" and another "R," her own initials. Then, another moment later, the wand emitted a "T," and "M," and an "R." Rosaline felt dizzy with relief, for if she'd been carrying Avery's baby, she imagined the consequences would be quite dire.

Laying back in the bed once more and placing a hand on her abdomen, Rosaline tried to calm herself, but failed. She couldn't help but wonder the sex of the baby, but she knew it was much too early to tell. Even with the looming, unknown reaction of her husband to face, Rosaline experienced a feeling unlike any she'd ever had, one she couldn't quite place, but didn't dislike.

After she'd gotten out of bed, she didn't quite feel up to eating, and so she dismissed the house elf's request to cook her something for breakfast. She drank some tea, which revived her a bit, but was still restless.

Later in the day, Rosaline went back up to the bedroom and sat in a chair by the window. The sky was a light shade of gray and it looked as if it would open up and pour at any moment. Suddenly, without warning, Rosaline began to cry. She carried on for what seemed like hours, her body shuddering with the force of her sobs.

The sky was beginning to darken when she heard a door somewhere in the house slam. Her heart raced as she heard several voices. Tom had brought Nott and Mulciber home with him. The voices died down as the men moved towards what she was sure was Tom's study.

Rosaline hastily wiped the tears away from her eyes as she thought about what to do. At first she decided not to tell Tom until his guests had left, but she could not contain her nerves any longer and decided to go to the study and interrupt the meeting.

She ran down the stairs and down the hallway and, without bothering to knock, threw open the heavy oak door of the study. Tom was sitting at his desk facing the door and Nott and Mulciber were sitting opposite him in two leather chairs. Their heads whipped around at the sudden sound of the door being opened and as soon as they saw it was Rosaline, they stood up from their chairs and bowed their heads, muttering, "Mrs. Riddle." Rosaline ignored them and looked at her husband.

Tom stood up slowly behind him, cold fury set in his face. He'd thought that Rosaline knew better than to interfere with his meetings, the contents of which were extremely secret. The fact that she'd come bursting in as she had was very agitating.

"I need a word," she said shortly to him.

"As you can see, Rosaline, I am busy at the moment," he said darkly in a slow, threatening voice. "Whatever you have to say, which had _better_ be of the utmost importance, can wait—"

"It _is_ of the utmost importance, and it absolutely cannot wait. I need to speak to you now," she said quickly, keeping her eyes locked on his.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then Tom said, "Excuse me," to Nott and Mulciber and walked quickly to where Rosaline stood in the doorway. He grabbed her arm, glaring at her, and dragged her outside the room, slamming the door behind them.

"What is it, Rosaline?" he said, gritting his teeth dangerously.

Rosaline opened her mouth to speak, but found her voice was lost.

"As you could see, I am very busy, so if you could please refrain from dawdling any longer—"

"I…I'm going to have a baby," she blurted out in a small voice.

"What?" Tom said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

"A baby…I'm—"

"I heard you," he spat. His expression was unreadable. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I checked."

"And it's…mine?"

"Of course," she answered quickly, her stomach dropping at the thought of Avery. Tom surveyed her shrewdly, as if to see whether she was lying, his expression still unreadable and stony.

"Well then," he said shortly and tonelessly. "This is good news. You'd better go upstairs and rest; I must finish my business here."

"Oh…alright," she said slowly and turned to leave.

Tom watched her as she walked down the hall, then turned and reentered his study to continue the meeting.

Rosaline tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her mind too full for sleep. She'd heard Nott and Mulciber leave a while earlier, but Tom had not yet come to bed. His reaction had not been horrible, but he was probably still enraged that she had interrupted his meeting. It was unlike him, though, not to punish her in one way or another when she upset him. Again growing restless with her own thoughts, she decided to go back down to Tom's study.

---

Tom fervently paced back and forth across the room. He knew Rosaline had not been lying: she was going to have a baby, his baby, without a question. Of course, this was the last thing that Tom had wanted to happen, and he wasn't used to things not going his way. It would interfere with his plans more than he could bear to think about. Worst of all, it was his fault and he knew it. He had second-guessed himself in school about whether marrying Rosaline was a sound decision, but he couldn't resist her. Now, his plans, his life's ambitions, were in jeopardy because of a bad decision he hade made as a seventeen-year-old.

The only positive aspect of the situation was that there would be someone to carry on the ancient Slytherin bloodline of which he was so proud. He had just sat down at his desk and begun to entertain this possibility when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Rosaline opened the door slowly and stepped into the room. It was richly decorated; there were dark wooden shelves housing hundreds of books and the hardwood floor was covered in an ornately woven rug. Tom watched her closely as she walked over to a leather chair facing him and sat down.

"I couldn't sleep," she said.

"I can see that," he answered, perhaps a bit too coldly.

"You're unhappy," she sighed.

"Well, what you told me today was quite unexpected," he said slowly. "It will be an enormous hindrance in the way of my plans, you understand, of course."

"Yes, I do, but these plans! It's all I hear about!" she said irritably.

Tom leaned back in his chair and placed his hands together in front of his mouth. He stared at her and did not speak for some time. Finally, he made his decision.

He opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment with a sketch on it and handed it to Rosaline over the desk.

Rosaline took the parchment, perplexed. On it was a drawing of a skull with a serpent emerging from its mouth. "What is this?" she asked.

"This," Tom replied, taking the parchment back from her and tapping the sketch with his wand, making the serpent slither around the skull, and handing it back to her, "is a symbol that every witch, wizard, and Muggle will come to fear in years to come. It is the symbol that will bind myself and those who follow me loyally together. You noticed that Nott and Mulciber were here earlier? Well they and every other visitor who has been here in that past few months will soon be given the choice to take this mark, have it branded into their skin permanently, as a sign of loyalty to me. When I touch the mark, it will burn on their skin, telling them that I have need of them and that they must immediately report to my side from wherever they are."

Rosaline nodded slowly, unable to take her eyes away from the serpent in the picture. It was writhing so realistically that she almost thought it a real snake. It's movements mesmerized her and she went into something of a trance for a few moments, until she noticed Tom's intense, black eyes upon her. She wrenched her gaze off of the snake and looked up at him.

"So, in a sense, you're gathering an army?"

Tom smirked. "In a sense." He gently took the parchment back from her and placed in its drawer.

"Will you ever force me to bear it?" she asked quietly.

He surveyed her with a stony expression. "No," he replied. "That ring you wear is enough of a brand of loyalty; I don't believe it would be necessary for you to bear the mark. Besides, if I need you, you're right here. There's no reason to summon you."

The conversation had made Rosaline a bit uneasy. For some reason, she thought back to when Tom had first cornered her in that corridor at Hogwarts in her fifth year. Something he'd said that night had stayed with her: _"There is nothing that I can't have."_

_How true, _she thought as she stared at his still-very handsome face. _How very true._

---

On a day some five months later, Tom left for his first trip since that eventful night of the bathtub incident.

"I shall be back two weeks from today," he'd told Rosaline before kissing her on the forehead.

"Good luck," she's said half-heartedly, although for what she was wishing him luck, she did not yet know.

Her pregnancy had begun to show considerably over the past few months as her stomach grew rounder, but the rest of her body had remained remarkably as thin as it had been before she'd gotten pregnant.

She was sitting in her chair in the bedroom several hours later, reading a book from Tom's study, when she heard a knock at the door. She heard the house elf open the door and faintly heard an oddly familiar voice. She walked slowly down the stairs to the foyer, but froze in shock before she reached the last step.

The man standing in the foyer was the last person she'd ever expected to see cross the threshold of the Riddle manor.


	11. TEN

**AN: **I changed some minor details in the first part of the chapter that I published earlier, so I recommend reading the whole thing again.

**Ten**

The man standing in the foyer was very tall. He had long, auburn hair and a beard to match, although there was more gray embedded in it than she remembered. His eyes were blue and had quite a pervasive quality about them. Rosaline recognized him immediately.

"Professor Dumbledore," she breathed.

She was instantly taken back to a long-buried memory from her seventh year at Hogwarts, the last time she'd seen the teacher. She had been called to Dumbledore's office on the last day of her last year at school. She had been very irritated by this. Due to Tom's frequent ranting about how awful he thought Dumbledore to be, Rosaline had developed somewhat of a disliking for the teacher. She was sure that this meeting would put a damper on the excitement she felt knowing that Tom Riddle would be waiting for her when she arrived back in London.

When she walked up to the door of his office and knocked, she heard a voice from inside the room say, "Enter."

She opened the door and walked gingerly into the room.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bordenave."

"Good afternoon, Professor."

"I am sure you're wondering why I have called you here on your last day of school."

"Well, yes sir, I rather am," she answered honestly and somewhat shortly.

Dumbledore considered her for a moment, his eyes searching her face, as though looking through her, and then continued. "I have called you here, Miss Bordenave, to talk about Tom Riddle."

Rosaline was taken aback, but not completely surprised, as she had felt that since she had been going out with Tom, Dumbledore's attitude towards her had changed and that he had been paying her more attention than usual. Even during her seventh year, during which Tom was absent, save his letters to her, as he had graduated the year before, Dumbledore had been watching her.

"And what of him, sir?" she said in a bored voice.

"Well, I happen to know that Mr. Riddle will be waiting for you when you arrive at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters tomorrow."

This did surprise her. "How did you know that?"

"You have been wearing Mr. Riddle's ring," he nodded towards Tom's black and gold one she wore on her left ring-finger, "for quite some time now. And, if I'm not mistaken, you wear it on your engagement finger."

Rosaline said nothing, just glared her icy glare at him. He did not seem fazed.

"Let me not stall any longer, Miss Bordenave. I have called you here to warn you."

At this, Rosaline smirked. She was again, not entirely surprised.

"Against Tom, I presume?" she said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply. "I believe that Tom Riddle is an extremely dangerous man and that it would be in you best interest to sever ties with him as soon as possible."

"Well, Professor, I am sure that will never happen."

"That is exactly what I fear, Miss Bordenave," he replied quietly. "I am afraid that Tom Riddle is accustomed to getting his way. He is capable of unimaginable atrocities and I fear that even someone as strong-willed as yourself will eventually be overpowered by him."

Rosaline began to feel uneasy, but her voice did not betray it. "I know Tom. I know exactly what I am doing."

"You might think so…" he trailed off and stared at her with his penetrating gaze. After a few moments, he continued. "Rosaline, you are exceptionally intelligent. You are a prefect, and I know for a fact that you were second only to one student for Head Girl. I believe you achieved ten O.W.L.s?"

"Eleven," she replied in a small voice. For some reason, she felt close to tears.

"I see. You'd be well suited for anything you wanted to pursue, and yet you choose to set your sights upon a life with Tom Riddle."

Rosaline glared for a moment longer and then spoke in a voice that was not nearly as resolute as before; "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Well, Rosaline," Dumbledore said sadly, his eyes showing what was unmistakably sympathy. "I hope so. I dearly hope so."

---

Rosaline blinked and snapped back to reality. She walked down the stairs and into the foyer, where she shook the older Dumbledore's hand.

"Not so much your Professor anymore, Miss Bor—I'm sorry, isn't it Mrs. Riddle now?"

"Yes, it is," she replied tonelessly. "Congratulations on your being made Headmaster."

"Thank you, thank you. Tom will have told you?"

"I overheard him speak of it, yes," she said skeptically.

"Of course," he said, nodding omnisciently.

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer and then said, "Won't you come in and sit down? Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, tea would be wonderful, thank you," he replied, following her into the sun-filled sitting room.

"Tom has done well for himself, I see. You have a lovely home," Dumbledore said, looking around from where he sat after the house elf had brought the tea.

"Thank you," she replied, wishing him to explain the nature of his visit, although she already had an inkling of what it was.

"And congratulations on your baby! You must be thrilled," he said, looking at her with the same penetrating gaze she had seen almost ten years earlier.

"Yes, thank you, I am most thrilled," she said still tonelessly, although not entirely untruthfully. She had begun, over the past six months, to enjoy and become attached to the idea of having a child.

"Well, allow me to make my intentions for being here clear, Rosaline. I come to bring you the same warning I gave you on your last day at Hogwarts."

He paused to consider her and to give her time to respond. When she did not, he continued. "I do not entirely expect you to heed it, as you are much more deeply involved with Tom Riddle than you were when I last saw you, but upon hearing that you are with child, an _innocent _child at that, I felt that I needed to try once more to convince you of the grave danger in which you and your child undoubtedly are."

Rosaline sighed, unable to meet his eyes. She stared down at her pale hands in her lap, noticing how much her bump had expanded over the past few months. She considered the warning. Had Dumbledore visited six months earlier, before she had become pregnant, she would have felt the same as she'd felt in school about it. However, she knew that he was right about the child. She knew by now that Tom was far from the ideal man for raising a child and she knew in her heart that Tom did not feel the same way she did about their child. She began to feel uneasy, just as she had on that day in Dumbledore's office in school.

Of course she knew that Tom was a dangerous man. Hadn't that been part of the reason she'd been attracted to him in the first place? And she did not, of course, want her loyalty to him to waver. And then there was her pride…having to admit that she, Rosaline Riddle, once so formidable and desirable, had made a mistake…

Everything, however, came down to the matter of the child. She couldn't believe that Tom would harm her or the baby without good reason…would he?

_No, _she thought. _He would never. _She pushed all doubtful thoughts from her mind and resolved that Tom wouldn't harm the only heir to the Slytherin bloodline, if for no other reason than that. She believed, despite her crippling doubts, that she had control of the situation, at least enough to protect her child.

Dumbledore seemed to notice her internal battle. "You are not perfect, I know. I can only imagine what you have done under Tom's influence, nothing of which you are proud, I'm sure. My concern, however, is your child. If you were to come with me I could offer you both powerful protection at Hogwarts. You can…"

"What?" Rosaline said, shocked, cutting him off. She had never considered leaving Tom, despite anything he had done. "No. No, certainly the situation could never be so dire."

"I'm afraid it is, Rosaline. I know things about your husband that would surely shock and appall you."

"I'm not so sure," she said quietly.

They stared at each other, their eyes locked, for a few long moments. Then, Dumbledore stood.

"Well, Mrs. Riddle, I've said all I can, and yet you stay resolute. Your loyalty, despite to whom you are loyal, is admirable."

Rosaline stood as well, saying nothing, feeling once more like a schoolgirl.

"I shall be going now; Tom would be most displeased to find that I've been here and spoken to you. If you need anything, or if you should change your mind, you know where to find me," he said in the same sad voice as he had in his office so long ago.

"Farewell, my dear." The last three words he said were with such finality that they left Rosaline shaken.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," she said quietly, again unable to meet his eyes. She walked him to the door as the house elf watched from behind a table, as if awaiting orders.

---

Rosaline spent the next fourteen days trying and failing to push the meeting with Dumbledore from her mind. She didn't even realize that on the same day exactly two weeks later, Tom would arrive home.

The sky had been steadily darkening since that morning, with sporadic rumblings of thunder in the distance. When Tom arrived back on his own doorstep, the rain began to fall so heavily that he was drenched in the few moments he spent outside. Upon entering, he dried himself with his wand and looked around. As he didn't see Rosaline in her usual chair in the sitting room, he assumed she was sleeping, as she had been so frequently ever since she'd given him the news of her pregnancy. He felt a stab of annoyance at the thought, but walked silently to his study.

There, he sat in his dark leather chair behind his desk and raised a hand to his pale brow, rubbing it gently as if trying to relieve the tension he felt.

For the past six months, his child had been growing inside of Rosaline. It was a fact that he could neither deny nor escape. His feelings on the subject were mixed. He knew that the child would be a hindrance for everything towards which he had worked; there was no doubt about that. The only positive that he could come up with, and which repeatedly did, was that he would be given an Heir of Slytherin.

_However…_ he thought to himself, standing up and beginning to pace the small room once more. _Another Heir of Slytherin…that just will not do. _Paranoia seized him with a deadly grip. _The child will surely discover my secret. What if it decides to turn against me? No, no, that will not do._

He concluded with deciding that he must distance himself and his secrets and his powers from the child as much as possible. It would be sent to a school far away, surely not Hogwarts, for the obvious reason of being able to associate with the children of his followers, or Durmstrang for that matter. Beauxbatons was a possibility. Perhaps he could send Rosaline there along with the child, he was sure she wouldn't object…_And even if she did, she would have no choice._ These thoughts calmed him, and he sank back into his chair, feeling slightly more at ease.

Suddenly, there was a tiny knock on the door, too soft to be Rosaline.

"Enter."

The small house elf timidly walked into his study. At first, Tom was taken aback, but then he remembered what he had asked the house elf to do. On the eve of his first leave of absence since Rosaline had become pregnant, Tom realized that someone might try to interfere with Rosaline while he was away. He had asked the house elf to, in essence, spy on his wife and on anyone who entered the house in his absence. Upon remembering this, Tom leaned forward over his desk towards the elf.

"What have you?" he said eagerly.

"Master will not be happy," the house elf squeaked, obviously terrified.

"Why?" Tom asked, his hands clenching into fists.

"Mistress had a visitor only the day you is leaving," the nervous elf continued.

"Who was it? Get on with it!" he growled, growing more agitated by the second.

"I is knowing it could be none other than Albus D-Dumbledore," the elf said in barely a whisper, his eyes wide with terror.

At this, Tom stood up, violently pushing back his chair.

"And what did Dumbledore say?" he said, barely able to contain his rage.

"He…he says you is dangerous…that you will bring harm to Mistress and Mistress' baby. He is offering to take Mistress and Mistress' baby away, to keep them safe…"

"She's still here?" Tom growled threateningly, his eyes darkening.

"Y-yes," the house elf stammered, growing even more terrified under his master's deadly glare.

Tom could hear no more. He stormed from the room, the house elf leaping out of his way, and into the hall. He did not hear the elf calling from behind him, "But Mistress is saying 'No!' Mistress is refusing to go, Master!"

He bounded up the stairs, seemingly rumbling the entire house. "ROSALINE!" he bellowed, rage coursing through his blood.

He remembered when, a year after his graduation from Hogwarts, a younger follower of his had informed him of a meeting Rosaline had had with Dumbledore on her last day. At first, Tom was very suspicious, but the follower told him that Rosaline had a look of outrage upon leaving Dumbledore's office and was sure there was nothing threatening about the meeting. Thinking back now, Tom knew he should have investigated further into the situation. _They've probably been conspiring against me all along. How could I have missed it? _The more he thought about it, the more it enraged him. Especially after he'd shown her the mark.

He flung open the bedroom door with such force it made a dent in the wall behind it.

He walked over to the bed to find Rosaline bleary-eyed and sitting up.

She turned to look at him and as soon as she saw him, the color drained from her face. She did not speak.

"So…" he said angrily, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly from the bed to stand and face him. "So…you're having meetings with Dumbledore now? Thinking of going to live at Hogwarts and reveal everything you know about me, which, thankfully, isn't very much…at least nothing important…" he ranted madly as he dragged her from the room.

"Tom, I—"

"And then you get yourself _pregnant_," he hissed viciously, ignoring her protests and he dragged her down the stairs. "Was that part of the conspiracy, or just your own brilliant improvisation?"

"Tom, I never—"

"_Crucio!_" he yelled, pointing his wand at her as they were halfway down the stairs.

And it was pain such as she'd never felt before. Knives were stabbing her, her whole body was engulfed in searing flames. Without knowing it, she lost her footing.

It seemed as though time itself had slowed. Rosaline's arm slipped out of Tom's grasp and she fell away from him, down the stairs behind her. Tom, taken aback, had lifted the curse as he watched her fall with a look of terror and loathing on her face.

He was unaware if a minute or an hour had passed as he watched her lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Finally, he descended the last few steps to her, bent down to check if she was breathing. She was. He noticed, however, that a pool of blood had begun to form near her legs.

He blinked, his faced devoid of any expression, and stepped over her limp form and walked towards the hallway that lead back to his study.

---

Rosaline woke what felt like days later in the guest bedroom farthest removed from the rest of the house, a room which had only one small window. Her head throbbed with pain and for a moment, she did not know where she was or how she had gotten there. Then, the horrible memories flooded her mind.

She remembered in streams of consciousness the events of that afternoon; Tom's rage, falling down the stairs, and then a period of perpetual darkness. She remembered being barely conscious as she hauled herself painfully up the stairs and into the farthest removed room she could find with a bed.

The worst feeling of all, including the pain in her head and all over her body, was an evil emptiness, a void that went beyond the physical. She knew that she had lost her child. She also knew that it was her own fault, not Tom's for cursing her, but solely her own for not heeding Dumbledore's warning.

She lay her aching head back down upon her pillow, unable even to cry. She felt it was a constant effort, a hindrance, really, to inhale and exhale, and wondered why she forced herself to do so anymore.

**AN: **It was very upsetting to write this chapter, and now I'm really sad, so please don't think I'm sadistic, because I'm really not. I think this is the only way to keep Tom in character and show how cruel and paranoid he really is as he furthers his transformation into Voldemort. Just the epilogue is left. I haven't started writing it yet, but I'll have it up as soon as I can.


	12. EPILOGUE

Four

**AN: The last chapter. After almost two years, it's finally done. All I can say is enjoy.**

**Epilogue**

Relief.

Relief was Tom's principal emotion over the next few weeks. He saw neither hide nor hair of his wife in that time. He assumed that she had locked herself in the far guest room and refused to come out. Whenever someone asked him where she was, he'd tell them she was extremely ill.

Most of his problem had been solved. The issue of the child was no more, but there was still the issue of Rosaline, and he knew he'd have to deal with it eventually. She knew too much, more than he wanted her to. He hated to admit it to himself, but he had misjudged her loyalty.

In Rosaline's absence, he'd made all the preparations for his further descent into darker magic than ever before. He'd decided to make the first Horcrux out of the ring he'd acquired from his uncle. Now all that he needed to do was decide whose death to use.

Emptiness.

Rosaline was empty, devoid, really, of any emotion in those weeks. She lay in the bed, quiet and almost motionless, cared for by the house-elf who had so detrimentally betrayed her. She was only aware of her surroundings in streams of consciousness. In the very back portion of her mind, she knew that she had made a mistake in involving herself so deeply with Tom Riddle.

If she were to be honest with herself, she had known it since that stormy night when Tom had followed her into the darkness of the corridors. She had only wanted to clear her head in the privacy of the sleeping castle, but he had stalked her like a cat stalking a mouse. Even though she had been too proud to admit it to herself, she'd always known.

She didn't have the strength to question the past. She barely had the strength to draw breath; it was an effort just to inhale and exhale. This is what her life had become, all because she had given herself fully to Tom Riddle.

--

Tom's heavy, even footfalls echoed in the darkness as he made his way to Rosaline's self-exile room. He knew exactly what was to be done, but as he approached the door, he realized that he did not know what he was going to say to her. He had been closer to her than any other human being. It wasn't ever love, but a deep, burning need. He had needed her up to this point. She had been a feather in his cap, and as close to a confidante as he would ever come. He knew all of this very well, and it was the reason he hesitated.

Slowly drawing breath, Tom placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. As soon as he opened the door into the dimly lit room, the house-elf scurried out past his feet. He directed his attention towards the bed where his wife laid. He hadn't seen her in weeks. As he stepped closer, he saw her more clearly. Her face was sunken and unnaturally pale, and in it was only a shadow of her former beauty. When he stood next to the bed, she turned to look at him with expressionless eyes. Something deep within him twanged unpleasantly and made his stomach turn. Was it guilt?

Rosaline stared at her husband for a few moments before slowly sitting up. His eyes reminded her of stone.

"Hello, Rosaline," he said.

"Hello, _my lord_," she replied with the tiniest bit of wryness.

There was a long, steely pause. Both parties did not break eye contact, and nothing in the world could have made them.

Rosaline was the first to speak. "What have you come for?"

He didn't respond. Slowly, she stood from the bed for the first time in weeks, to face him.

Tom's face twitched slightly. The movement was so small that no one but the trained Rosaline would have noticed it. The weight of the words he was about to say was visible in his entire being. Rosaline had never seen him this way, but remained stoic nonetheless.

He took a deep, steadying breath, for what he was about to say was the purest truth he had ever and would ever tell.

"Rosaline, you've been closer to me than any other person. I didn't think I would ever let someone so close to me, reveal as much of myself to anyone, but you some. For some time, I was sure that you were perfect, that our relationship was perfection, but you betrayed me. You _must _understand this. Albus Dumbledore is my mortal enemy. By having any kind of contact with him, you ruined whatever trust I had in you. And your pregnancy was doomed from the beginning. You and I could never have raised a child, Rosaline. The risk would have been too great on many levels."

He paused, allowing her to fully absorb his words. She said nothing, but stared back at him intently. He continued.

"I must admit, I would never have foreseen the state into which you've fallen. Your former glory and beauty is now but a glimmer in you. I don't recognize you, Rosaline. This, I cannot bear. Over the years, I have crossed every single boundary of magic ever drawn. What I have achieved will be branded into the pages of history for eons to come. I have found a way to keep myself living eternally."

Rosaline's eyed widened slightly at this statement, but she remained silent.

"I have decided that I want you to be a part of this process. In order to preserve a piece of my soul, great steps must be taken…I must take the life of another, Rosaline." He stopped speaking as a thicker silence than before filled the room.

The truth dawned on Rosaline. She understood what he was saying and slowly nodded her head, her expression just as, if not more, stoic that before.

"Rosaline, I want you to be a part of the process that will make me immortal. You have been vital to me throughout my quest, and although I could not have foreseen this being the way that in ends, it is altogether fitting."

There was another long, dense pause. Rosaline surveyed Tom intensely, saying nothing. "Well, have you nothing to say?" he said, his voice raising slightly, his hands beginning to shake.

"Perfection," she began slowly, as if tasting the word. "You're right. We were never perfection. _You _will never achieve perfection. You may achieve what you think is perfection, but you will never truly have it. There will always be something lurking in the darkness.

Since we began our relationship, I've given myself fully to you. This began that one night in the corridor when you followed me out of the common room. Ever since then, I've been nothing but loyal to you. Anyone who came between us was a tool used by one or both of us. Covington, Katrina, Brice Avery.

Brice is perhaps the greatest example of this. When he kissed me in the classroom during the Winter Ball, he told me he was in love with me. People like us aren't capable of love, Tom. You know this as well as I do. I believe that this is what we had the most in common. And Brice factored in again when I used him to make you jealous and you used me to test his loyalty. What a perfectly laid plan that was. It worked out well for you, didn't it?"

Tom's face slowly drained of color as she spoke.

"Brice is the opposite of you and me. He operated solely on his love for me. He could never have known how futile it was, it wasn't in his nature.

And my pregnancy. I must tell you, I did not _ever_ believe that it was doomed. I had certain misgivings, but I grew attached to the child growing inside of me. I dreamed that he or she would one day grow to be a perfect hybrid of you and me and would assist you in your reign. I also grew attached to the thought of being a mother. Twice Albus Dumbledore tried to sway me away from you. Once was just after I graduated, I'm sure you found out about that at some point. The other time, as you know, was a few months ago. He told me to leave with him, that my child could not be safe if I stayed with you. Twice I defied him, Tom. At this point, I have no motivation to question my past decisions, because I truly believe that none of that matters anymore.

But you see, in killing your child, which you did do, whether or not that was your initial intention, you destroyed any kind of legacy you would have had. I know that you think you will be immortal, Tom. Since I already know what my fate is, I will tell you what I know is to happen. Someone like Brice will come along someday, in ten, fifty, even a hundred years. I said that Brice operated entirely on love. The key element he lacked was courage. Someone will come along, Tom, someone who is fueled only by love and courage will prove that nothing is immortal. Therein lies your undoing. You will see one day that even the most meticulously laid plans will inevitable have flaws, there is no such thing as _perfection_. And you will fall."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Tom raised his wand to Rosaline's chest and uttered the words "_Avada Kedavra!" _filling the room with green light.

Rosaline's still body slumped to the floor. As Tom worked the Horcrux charm over her, beside himself with rage and, deeper inside of him, what he would come to know as fear, Rosaline's eyes remained open with the same look of defiance that they had held while she was still alive.

Tom would store what she'd said in the back of his mind for many years. He eventually convinced himself that it was a lie, that it could never be possible, but with him it stayed regardless. And on the day of that final battle at Hogwarts, at the moment that his own spell had rebounded against him at the close of his duel with the boy who was pure of heart, the only thought in Voldemort's head was Rosaline in the last moments of her life. It was then that he realized that those moments were the only times in his life where there had been perfection.

**AN: Thanks so much to everyone for the amazing reviews! I'm thrilled that as many people liked my story as much as they did. I'm thinking of writing another, but I'm not sure if I want to commit to that yet. Stay tuned**


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